


Nightmare

by StarsEncrusted



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 126
Words: 224,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22785442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarsEncrusted/pseuds/StarsEncrusted
Summary: Spoilers for lesson 30. Drama/Action/Humor. MC, demons, angels, the grand game, and total mayhem.
Comments: 623
Kudos: 676





	1. Last Night in the Devildom: A Glass of Milk

Simeon: (SIGH)

MC: Why the big sigh?

Simeon jumps.

Simeon: Oh, hello. Shouldn't you be in the House of Lamentation right now? I heard there's a party going on.

MC: I went out to get a glass of Nightshade Milk, but we’re all out in the kitchen, so I came here to check. You wouldn’t happen to have any, would you?

Simeon: Afraid not. And you’ve come all this way... I have a lot of Sunberry Milk, however, if you want any?

MC: I’ll try one.

Simeon: Over here.

As I follow Simeon to the kitchen, I take out my D.D.D. and send out a message.

* * *

Asmodeus: Uugh, just how long does it take to fetch one drink? Shouldn’t a person who went to get a glass of milk be back by now? It’s been **half an hour** already.

Satan: We’ve got so many beverages here. The only drink we don’t have is milk. Why would anyone want to drink milk at the party, anyway?

Mammon: Right? You’re a demon of sense, Satan. Unlike a certain someone.

Mammon turns to glare at Belphegor, but Beelzebub is blocking him from view.

Mammon: All these drinks, yet Belphie wanted the **milk** that’s not here. And where does he get off, sending the guest of honor to fetch it? Who DOES that?

Leviathan: I know, right? **Unforgivable**. If you want a drink, go get it **yourself**. Don’t ask someone else to do it.

Mammon: Especially not **that** someone.

Asmodeus: Check this out. Didn’t Belphie receive a message just now?

Mammon: WHAT?

Belphegor: (is caught in the process of checking his D.D.D.)

In the blink of an eye, Belphegor is surrounded.

Mammon: Who messaged you?

Satan: Don’t ask stupid questions. Only **one** of us is not here right now.

Leviathan: Why are **you** the only one getting a message?

Lucifer: Never mind all that. **What does the message say?**

Belphegor: It’s a secret.

Asmodeus: Belphie, dear? Let me see your D.D.D., please?

Belphegor: No.

Asmodeus: ...

Mammon snakes his hand out and tries to snatch the D.D.D.

Belphegor narrowly avoids his grasp.

Belphegor: What do you think you’re doing!

A brief but dirty fight over the D.D.D. ensures.

Mammon: Pull his tail, Levi! Satan, hold him by the horns!

Satan: Don’t tell me what to do...!

Belphegor: Urk!

Leviathan: Uwaa! Asmo, help!

Asmodeus: Here I come with the pillows!

Belphegor: Beel...! Mmph!

Beelzebub: ...

Severely outnumbered, Belphegor is pinned facedown to the couch and buried under the mountain of pillows. Somehow his D.D.D. ends up in the hands of Lucifer, who did not participate in the fight.

Lucifer: Let’s see.

Lucifer unlocks the screen with his master password and opens the chat as the rest of the demons crowd around him.

[MC: I couldn’t find Nightshade Milk, want Sunberry Milk instead?]

Lucifer: ...sent from the Purgatory Hall?

Mammon: ...why go all the way there? We have a ton of Nightshade Milk right here in the kitchen.

Beelzebub: I’m sorry. I might have drank all of it.

Mammon: You MIGHT have?

Beelzebub: I have no memory of it. But I feel full right now.

Satan: Is it likely, yes. The question is, why go to the Purgatory Hall? Isn’t this too much effort for a **mere drink**?

Lucifer: ...

Satan: ...

Mammon: Hey, gimme that D.D.D. I’ll send a message back.

Belphegor: Mmph! Pmmph!

Leviathan: Why should **you** be the one to send it? I can do it as well.

Asmodeus: Me, me! Let ME send the message. I know JUST the thing to say to call someone back!

Lucifer: Very well. You do this, Asmo.

Lucifer hands the D.D.D. over to Asmodeus.

Satan: Don’t mess this up.

Asmodeus: Leave it to me!

Belphegor: Pphaaah. (voice muffled) Get those pillows off me already... can’t... breathe....

* * *

_ding._

I check the incoming message.

[Belphegor: Honey, I don’t want any milk. I want YOU. Hurry back, my sweet pumpkin, everyone is missing you. Let’s not waste a single moment of our last night in the Devildom together. Muah!]

MC: ...

MC: (My last night in the Devildom...)

If Asmo is messaging me from this D.D.D., I take it Belphie is already indisposed?

In any case, I guess he doesn’t want his milk anymore.

And that means, there’s no reason for me to hurry back.


	2. A Late-Night Conversation With an Angel

Simeon opens the cupboard. It’s completely filled with identical white bottles.

MC: Whoa, you weren’t kidding. There’s a lot.

I take one bottle out and examine it. A faint glow emanates from the bottle. It bears a sticker with an inscription.

[Bottle inscription: Sunberry Milk. Made from handpicked Celestial sunberries. Tasteless to demons. Harmless to humans. Beneficial to the growth of young angels.]

None of these bottles look like they’ve been opened...

MC: Luke hasn’t been drinking it?

Simeon: ...He says he doesn’t like the cloyingly sweet taste.

I open the bottle and take a sip. It is a little sweet, but not overwhelmingly so.

MC: Where is Luke right now?

Simeon: Out for a walk. He said he wanted some air.

I take another sip of milk. It doesn’t taste sweet anymore.

MC: So, he hasn’t grown as much as you’d hoped?

Simeon studies me for a moment, his expression unusually solemn and distant.

Simeon: Shouldn’t you head back to the House of Lamentation? No doubt they’re waiting for you.

I ignore the blatant attempt to kick me out, and take a seat instead.

MC: Is it okay for a high-ranked angel to be so **inhospitable**? Wait if you lose angel points for that?

Simeon: (Angel points?)

MC: It saddens me greatly that my presence is **unwelcome** here. In fact, I think I’m about to cry. I am SO abandoned and desolate.

Simeon: ...

What, he’s not going to accuse me of lying? Did this actually work?

Simeon: It’s not that I don’t want your presence.

MC: Prove it. Keep me company until I finish this bottle of milk.

I put the bottle on the table in front of me pointedly, and lean back in my seat to demonstrate that I’m not in a hurry.

MC: Lucifer told me to spend the remaining time with **everyone**. If possible, I’d like to do what he wants. Why don’t you talk to me for a bit? I won’t take up much of your time.

Simeon: By everyone, I’m sure he meant his brothers.

MC: My point exactly.

Simeon: His **demon** brothers.

MC: If that's what he meant, he should've been **more specific**.

Simeon smiles faintly.

Simeon: Finding loopholes in an agreement? You’ve spent too much time with the demons.

Good, he finally smiled.

I gesture for him to sit down opposite of me.

MC: This is your chance to balance out that corrupting influence.

Reluctantly, Simeon takes a seat. His posture is stiff. He looks really tense...

MC: **Relax**. I only want to have **a little conversation**. Would you like a glass of milk?

Simeon laughs softly.

Simeon: You’re making me feel like I’m reporting to Michael.

What the...?

I think I just heard something strange. Are my ears broken?

Simeon: Hehe. You have a funny expression on your face.

He’s done that on purpose. Is teasing normal for an angel?

Simeon: What shall we talk about?

MC: Tell me about Luke’s situation.

Simeon: It is as you thought. He hasn’t grown as much as I hoped.

Simeon: Today marks the last night of our stay in the Devildom. There were moments when I thought his perspective began to shift, but...

Simeon: In the end, it wasn’t enough.

MC: How much growth did you hope for him to achieve?

Simeon: I wanted him to receive his wings.

So Luke doesn’t have wings right now? That’s a bit surprising. Granted, I’ve never seen any of the angels in their true form.

MC: So if his perspective expands and he matures as an angel, he will literally grow **wings**?

Simeon: (sigh) Yes.

MC: There’s that sigh again. Why do you look so worried? Sure, it’s disappointing he hasn’t made a lot of progress. But even a little bit is still good. He’s an angel. He’s got all the time in the world.

Simeon: **He is out of time.**

For a moment, I just stare at him blankly. Simeon meets my eyes in silence. Such a tranquil gaze.

MC: What...do you mean by this?

Simeon: Luke is scheduled for a manifestation ceremony a week from now. He is expected to show everyone his wings then. If he can’t do it, he will **lose his angelhood**.

MC: ...Isn’t that a bit SUDDEN?

Simeon: Luke has been stagnated at the current stage for a while now, and the ceremony has already been postponed several times. Michael said he cannot postpone it any longer. He is facing pressure from all directions...

MC: Does Luke know of this?

Simeon: No. I haven’t told him.

I am struck once again by how tranquil Simeon’s eyes are. Such tranquility makes me want to shatter it.

MC: If his angelhood is at stake, why don’t you **force him** to grow?

Simeon’s gaze flickers. For the first time, there is a ripple in that tranquil pool.

Simeon: What do you mean, **force him**?

MC: Isn’t that obvious? The time for gentle methods is past. Sacrifice your principles of non-interference and abuse your authority in order to guide him. He’s too stubborn to grow on his own, he needs a vigorous kick in the right direction. Drag him by the collar, if you have to. He’ll have plenty of time to expand his perspective on his own once he has his wings.

MC: Sure, you might lose angel points for that, but at least Luke will still be there. Isn’t that **a fair deal**?

Simeon: Force him **how**?

Why does he look at me as though he saw a demon?

Simeon: Any...suggestions?

How would I have any useful suggestions? I’m just a human, I don’t know anything about the development of angels. Simeon would know far better than I would. Surely he has already considered all options.

Unless he’s looking for validation?

If only I knew what exactly he wants me to say...

MC: Why don’t you order him to drink all those bottles of milk in your cupboard?

Simeon: (shakes his head) The milk is a supplement, not a catalyst. It’s nutritious, can be drank in any quantities without side-effects, increases and promotes spiritual recovery. But it’s nothing without an **act**. The combination of both is necessary for manifestation.

MC: So, it’s like a workout. What sort of act works, then?

Simeon: There are all sorts...

Absently, Simeon takes out a piece of paper and starts scrawling something on it, without looking at the paper, as he speaks. His writing is illegible, and he keeps crossing words out, scribbling over them in all directions. He doesn’t seem to be aware of what he’s doing.

Simeon: A number of acts constitute the duties of the firmament and are considered **natural paths to manifestation** , but all of them must be initiated by the angel’s own will and cannot be forced. This method requires favorable circumstances.

MC: Circumstances can be created.

Simeon: ...True. And the Department of Salvation does that routinely. An archangel is able to create circumstances that are completely seamless and natural. But there is **no time left** for something like that.

Simeon crosses out all the words he’s written and pushes the paper away.

MC: Okay, so the long-term solutions are out. But there must be short-cuts. Something more artificial than natural.

Simeon: An interesting choice of words.

He is not denying it...

Simeon: Humans have bodies that are physical, while angels and demons are entities that are purely metaphysical. An angel’s set of values, once complete, manifests their transcendent essence as a pair of wings.

Simeon: This is a natural, heavens-approved process that happens from **within**.

MC: Is there a way to do it **without**?

Simeon: (nod)

Simeon: There is one Celestial artifact that can do it.

Simeon reaches into his pocket and takes out an object, which he holds out on his palm.

I study the object. It looks like a golden half-open bracelet.

Simeon: This is **Delegation of Authority**. If you put it around an angel’s wrist, it will **force a manifestation of wings**.

MC: Why haven’t you used it on Luke yet?

Simeon: Because it will **ruin Luke’s future**.

Simeon is still holding out the artifact on his palm while he’s explaining.

Simeon: Luke has an ambition: he wants to serve in the Department of Judgement. It is the goal of his entire existence. It is the foundation of his transcendent essence. Destroying the foundation means **ruin**.

Simeon: Using short-cuts such as an artifact for manifestation is considered an **easy way**. As such, it is highly frowned upon in heaven. Many departments will not accept angels who received their wings this way. The Department of Judgement is one of them.

Simeon: Michael gave this artifact to me. He left the decision in my hands.

Simeon’s hand, which is holding the artifact, trembles slightly.

Simeon: But I haven’t been able to make a decision. I’ve been stalling. Whether I use it or not, it means destruction for Luke. Either he will be **cast out** , or he will be **ruined**. How can I make a choice like that?

MC: That thing looks heavy. Aren’t you tired of holding it?

I meet his gaze. Simeon’s eyes widen.

When dealing with someone who’s had too much of responsibility, the important thing is not to ask permission.

MC: I’ll take it off your hands.

Before Simeon has the time to react, I reach out and take the artifact.

Wow, this thing IS heavy. Fortunately I wasn’t zapped by any protective Celestial magic. Always a possibility, with the smell of demons clinging to me. Maybe I’m imagining it, but I can feel a faint displeasure radiating from the artifact.

Not waiting for either Simeon or the artifact to voice a protest, I slip Delegation of Authority into my pocket.

Simeon stares at his empty hand. Slowly, he clenches his fingers.

Then he slumps back in his seat and covers his face.

W-what’s happening now? He’s not actually crying, is he?

I feel cold sweat dripping down my back. What am I supposed to do now? I have no idea how to comfort an angel.

MC: Ugh?

Not good, I can hear panic in my voice!

Simeon: (voice muffled) Don’t look at me. I’m too ashamed to face you.

I look away hurriedly.

MC: It...will be okay.

No response.

MC: It will really be okay. **I promise**.

I sneak a peek at Simeon and try to soften my voice.

MC: Why don’t you go to your room and have some rest?

Simeon: (eyes downcast) As you command, so it shall be done.

What the...?

I stare at Simeon, but he’s refusing to meet my gaze. What’s going on?

Wait. Does the artifact in my possession have anything to do with it? It belongs to an archangel, after all.

Maybe I can issue orders to angels while I have it? Let’s put it to the test.

MC: Stay in your room the whole night, and no matter what, don’t open your door. Don’t go out. Don’t talk to anyone. Luke and I will meet you in the Council Room in the morning.

Simeon: As you wish.

Simeon stands up and walks out of the kitchen, leaving me alone.


	3. A Sinister Artifact, Made in Heaven

Well, that was the most unnatural thing I’ve experienced as of late. Such compliance is unnerving. Still, useful, since I’m short on time.

After the door closes behind Simeon, I pull the artifact out of my pocket again and examine it closely.

What a shiny thing. Looking at it too closely is blinding. A bit too heavy for a bracelet...might be too wide for Luke’s small wrist.

Uh, are those TEETH on the inner side of it?

No, are they metal SPIKES? They look...really sharp. And long. And they glimmer sinisterly.

If you put this bracelet around someone’s wrist, and then lock it close, wouldn’t these spikes **plunge right into the flesh**?

Yep, they would go all the way in, for sure. They’re bound to **pierce the hand to the bone**.

But maybe it wouldn’t actually **hurt**?

I poke one spike with my finger.

OUCH.

A jolt runs up my arm, shock travelling through my entire body. For a moment, I forget who I am. I feel a lag in reality, like a stitch in a fabric of time-space. My whole arm becomes numb, and it hangs limp.

A single drop of blood glistens on the tip of the spike for a moment, then draws inside the bracelet without a trace.

The artifact radiates grim satisfaction.

...Are we absolutely sure this thing was **made in heaven**? This isn’t a dark magic artifact, smuggled from the human realm, or something? Is there a **stamp** somewhere?

I turn the thing over. The outer surface is covered in faint writing. I squint painfully at the shining words.

This is...Celestial Script.

Not good. I can read pretty much any language now (probably the perks of being an exchange student), but Celestial Script is still giving me trouble. You can’t read it word by word, you’re supposed to comprehend the entire message. But your understanding of the message varies depending on the level of your own spiritual development.

My spiritual development is, well...Let’s not mention it. But I did practice with the Celestial Script a lot for one of the group assignments. I should be able to understand perhaps thirty percent of it.

MC: Here goes nothing.

The general meaning should be...

[Artifact inscription: **Torture** is **elevating**. You will be **destroyed** and replaced with **someone else**. There is no **free lunch** in heaven.]

MC: ...

Is it me, or is this message DISTURBING?

Calm down, think about this rationally.

I think I can safely ignore the part about **free lunch**. Almost certainly, some metaphor was lost in translation.

I wouldn’t read too much into that dubious passage about **torture** , either. It was probably translated like that due to my (extremely) low spirituality. Although the spikes do make me wonder. Either way, the process is guaranteed to be painful.

The part that worries me the most is the passage about being **destroyed** and replaced with **someone else**. I have no idea what this means, and I don’t like it.

Frowning, I pocket the artifact. My arm is still numb, but it has started tingling. Apparently the damage is not permanent.

In any case, this confirms one thing. This artifact was certainly made in heaven. The script is Celestial, and the inscription mentions **heaven** explicitly.

Still, my doubts can’t help but increase. All things considered, I loathe the idea of putting this thing on Luke.

Isn’t there something I’m overlooking? Perhaps there’s still another way?

I pace restlessly in the kitchen. The movement of my cloak disturbs the paper on the table, and it flutters down.

I catch the paper before it reaches the floor.

Oh? Simeon made notes on this while speaking about acts an angel must undertake while on the path of natural manifestation.

I know he said there’s no time left for that, but I want to consider all options.

I study the piece of paper.

Good grief. Simeon’s handwriting is **terrible**. This is no Celestial Script, thankfully, but no easier to read for that. Just trying to decipher his scrawls is already giving me a headache, but he’s also crisscrossed all over it. I can only make out fragments of it.

[Simeon note: ...acts suitable for high-ranked angels...self-sacrifice, administering salvation, administering judgement...]

Going for the high rank right away might be too much of a challenge for Luke. Not to mention, I don’t like the sound of that **self-sacrifice** option at all.

Just one of these acts is enough, right? Let’s try to find something more doable.

[Simeon note: ...mid-ranked...acts of compassion, helping those in need, showing mercy to one’s enemy, saving a human’s life...]

Did I read this correctly? Does it say **human’s life**?

I scrutinize the note for another minute, but can’t extract anything else from it, so I pocket it too.

Luke still hasn't returned... This is bothering me. I've talked to Simeon for a while. Hasn't Luke had enough air yet?

Hopefully he didn't run into some deadly and prohibited corner of the Devildom on his own, like he's prone to.

MC: ...

...Let's not wait for him here. I'm going out to find him.

After a moment’s contemplation, I walk to the cupboard and open it again.

I just want to cover all bases. What if all Luke needs is drinking a little bit of milk? Or maybe a LOT of it? Wouldn’t we all feel foolish if it turns out that he just lacked some supplement?

I stuff my backpack to the brim with bottles of Sunberry Milk and put the full backpack back on.

Some feeling has returned to my arm. I twist it experimentally, clench my hand, and wiggle my fingers. My muscles follow my commands, albeit sluggishly. Good enough.

Well, that’s it. Time to find Luke.

I take one last sip out of my bottle. Oddly enough, this time I can’t taste anything at all.

Leaving the empty bottle on the table, I walk out of the Purgatory Hall.


	4. Brb, gonna walk the dog

Outside, the breeze is gentle and the moonlight is bright. I take out my D.D.D. and snap my fingers. The summoning is almost a second nature, now.

It’s hard to believe that in just a few hours, I’m going to lose this forever.

The air shimmers, darkness whirling, until it shapes itself into a little horned figure with red chitin body, glittering eyes, and insect wings.

MC: We’re going to need more than one.

More figures join this one — a dozen, a hundred, until I am surrounded by little demons.

I reach out my hand and pet the insect-like demon who was the first to respond to my call.

My hand meets the familiar sensation, darkness solidified, cold and burning at once, heavy and comforting danger. Somewhere in its depths flickers the blue sapphire flame, giving me an impression of a half-slumbering predator watching me lazily, evaluating me. One wrong move, and this living darkness would take my fingers off. I’ve come to think of it as the essence of the Devildom.

I look at the little demon, and it looks back at me, fire sloshing in its slitted eyes. Its insect wings flutter gently against my hand, tickling me, once, twice. Then the creature shifts slightly, breaking away from my touch.

This never lasts.

Insect-like Demon: Instructions?

MC: Find Luke.

My command is like a stone dropped into the glittering pool of eyes around me, causing a splash. The little demons dash away from me in all directions.

MC: In the meantime, I better send a message off. 

* * *

_ding._

Mammon: Did ya hear that? That’s a message, right?

Lucifer checks Belphegor’s D.D.D.

Lucifer: Nothing here. Whose D.D.D. went off just now?

Asmodeus: Oh!

Mammon: What? WHAT is it?

Asmodeus: It’s **mine**. I’m the one who received the message. **Of course** I am the one.

Mammon: Seriously?

Leviathan: Why **you** of all demons?

Satan: ...Replying directly to the sender, I see.

Lucifer: What does it say?

Asmodeus: Hold on, don’t crowd around me like that. Don’t push, let me open the message...Oh, the anticipation!

Asmodeus opens the chat and reads the message.

[MC: Brb, gonna walk the dog.]

Asmodeus: ...What?

Satan: Since when do we have a dog?

Mammon: Wait. **The** dog?

Beelzebub: Could it be...?

Lucifer: ...

Lucifer: Everyone, I am sorry. I’ve made a mistake.

Satan: What are you talking about?

Lucifer: (mutters) I should’ve been **more specific**.

Belphegor: Mmmmmph!

Asmodeus: What is it, my dear little brother? Uugh, you look really uncomfortable. Is it because of the **gag**? Should I adjust it a little?

Belphegor: ...

Asmodeus: Or is it because of the **handcuffs**? Are they too tight? Want me to massage your wrists? Go ahead, turn around. I’ll give you a **gentle** massage. It will be so good, your arms will **never** bother you again.

Belphegor: ...

Asmodeus: Or are you upset because... **you want to read the message, but you can’t**?

Mammon: Uh-oh. Watch out, Asmo’s lost his temper!

Asmodeus: I can totally see why you’d want to read it, Belphie. It could have been addressed to **you** , after all.

Asmodeus waves his D.D.D. in front of Belphegor’s nose.

Asmodeus: If you want to see the message that badly, say **please**.

Belphegor: ...

Leviathan: Uh, Asmo...He’s gagged.

Asmodeus: Oh, so sorry, forgot all about that. I guess you can’t speak right now, can you?

Asmodeus removes the feather boa from Belphegor’s mouth.

Belphegor: Pphaaah. Eeuch. Phew.

Asmodeus: Let’s hear you say it.

Belphegor: You aren’t going to show it to me anyway.

Asmodeus: If you don’t say it, I **definitely** won’t show it to you. ❤

Belphegor: ...

Belphegor: **Please**.

Asmodeus: **No**.

Belphegor: Asmo, you b—mmph!

Asmodeus gags him again.

Lucifer: Nobody is to try and send any messages now. Asmo did it carelessly, and it had the opposite effect. Some **finesse** is called for. Until we know the situation —

Mammon: Hmph, no one can stop me — OW!

Satan: I’d say it’s my turn to send a message now.

Leviathan: Why is it always someone **else’s** turn? I outrank you, Satan.

Mammon: If messages are no good, I’m just gonna **call** — OW, OUCH!

Beelzebub: Belphie, are you okay?

Belphegor: Mmph! (No, I’m not. My arms hurt from being twisted behind my back. Remove the handcuffs from me.)

Beelzebub: You know I can’t do that. Asmo has the key, anyway. You have to wait for his fury to cool. The others are frustrated with you as well.

Belphegor: Mmmph. (I want to go to the toilet.)

Beelzebub: I’ll take you there, but I’m not taking these handcuffs off you.

Belphegor: ...

Belphegor: Nnn. (On second thought, never mind. Forget I said anything.)

Mammon: If I’m not allowed to text or call, then I’m goin’ to the Purgatory Hall **myself**. Gotta do a little investigation of the situation in person. What if somethin’s wrong?

Lucifer: ...Very well. Be quick about it.

In a flash of a movement, Mammon is gone.


	5. Official Version vs. Demon Gossip

Before long, two little demons scurry back to me with a report.

Insect-like Demon: Bad news. **Luke is in the Valley of Ruin.**

Well, that doesn’t sound ominous at all.

MC: What kind of place is that? I’ve never heard of it before.

Bat-like Demon: We don’t exactly advertise it to visitors.

MC: (A **visitor** , am I...)

Insect-like Demon: ...And it’s bad luck to bring it up in a casual conversation.

Bat-like Demon: Hehe, the Valley of Ruin **eats angels**.

MC: ...What?

I feel strangely calm. Somehow, I am not surprised at all. I just knew Luke would get in trouble if left on his own.

The question is, why now? This is the last night of the exchange program. He was barely alone for an hour. The timing is odd.

MC: Is he still alive, or was he already **eaten**?

Insect-like Demon: He is alive and in good health. We had set up life trackers for all exchange students. Lord Diavolo would be notified immediately if their lives are in direct danger. And I would know as well.

Bat-like Demon: If nothing happened to him yet, **nothing will happen to him until morning**.

What a cryptic remark.

MC: ...Why do you say that?

Bat-like Demon: Hehe. **Just a feeling I have**.

Insect-like Demon: The problem is entering the Valley. It’s in the Abyss, which complicates things.

MC: I thought the Abyss was just the lower part of the Devildom.

Insect-like Demon: Yes, but the Valley of Ruin is...special.

Bat-like Demon: Back during the time of Chaos, the wars between heaven and hell never ceased. The Valley of Ruin was a frequent battleground. The armies of the Old King and the Lord of Heaven clashed there many times. Many demons and angels lost their lives there. And during the modern era, which began with Lord Diavolo’s rule...

Insect-like Demon: ...It’s not a battleground anymore. Now it’s a wasteland. That place is closed to everyone, because it’s too dangerous. The environment there is unstable and hostile to both demons and angels. If one enters, one will probably never leave.

MC: No one lives there?

Bat-like Demon: There might be one...attendant.

Insect-like Demon: Nonsense and baseless rumors.

MC: Who are you talking about?

Bat-like Demon: There are rumors that the memory of the old hatred still lingers there, occasionally manifesting itself as Avatar of Ruin, who bears eternal grudge against heaven and all its agents.

Insect-like Demon: Mere superstitions. Avatar of Ruin doesn’t really exist.

Bat-like Demon: It’s a fact that angels still disappear in the Valley.

Insect-like Demon: They’re spies. Wandering around the Devildom uninvited, poking their nose where they don’t belong, entering places they shouldn’t enter. Of course they’d be eaten. They probably get swarmed by the lower demons, or get lost and starve to death. The Abyss is a much less civilized territory than the rest of the Devildom, since it's not under Lord Diavolo's direct rule.

Bat-like Demon: After the Valley of Ruin officially became a part of the Abyss, and rumors about the new Avatar emerged, no angel dares enter that place anymore. They say even an archangel got eaten there once.

Insect-like Demon: Not eaten, injured. Raphael. He got out.

Bat-like Demon: He got out after being eaten. This is the power of an archangel.

Insect-like Demon: Other than him, no angel ever escaped that place. A little delicious angel like Luke wouldn’t stand a chance.

Bat-like Demon: **Yum**.

Insect-like Demon: He will not live to see the dawn.

Bat-like Demon: **Yum, yum**. There won’t even be bones left.

Insect-like Demon: What a disaster, and during the last night of the exchange program too. Wait till Lord Diavolo hears about this.

Bat-like Demon: Hehe. He will **not** be pleased.

Does this mean they reported this matter to me first, and not to Diavolo? I don’t know whether to feel unnerved or flattered. Something here is strange...

MC: Can’t Lord Diavolo bring Luke out?

Insect-like Demon: There might be... a bit of a problem with that.

MC: Why? Does Lord Diavolo not get along with Avatar of Ruin?

Insect-like Demon: ...I’m telling you, Avatar of Ruin does not officially exist.

Bat-like Demon: For someone who does not exist, he is quite gossiped about. He even has a title: **Nightmare**.

MC: !

Bat-like Demon: Hehe, does that sound familiar? The summoning app on your D.D.D. was inspired by him.

Insect-like Demon: It was inspired by a fairy tale, not by a real demon. Nightmare the demon does not exist. No one has seen him for centuries.

Bat-like Demon: They say that Nightmare not only exists, but existed even during the time of Chaos. They speculate that he took part in all the wars. They whisper that he used to be the Old King’s Juggernaut.

MC: Juggernaut?

Bat-like Demon: The first lieutenant.

Insect-like Demon: Basically, the powerhouse on the battlefield. That term isn’t really used anymore. There is no need to mention it...

Bat-like Demon: Hehe. They say Nightmare is loyal to the Old King. He doesn’t take orders from Lord Diavolo. After all, Lord Diavolo is only a prince. He hasn’t been officially crowned yet.

Insect-like Demon: Not yet.

Bat-like Demon: They say that when Nightmare wakes up, he won’t be too happy with Diavolo’s new regime. Everyone is anticipating Nightmare’s reaction. Or so I’ve heard in the Abyss.

Insect-like Demon: Tsk, the Valley of Ruin has been slumbering in the Abyss for a long while. Why would it wake up now?

Bat-like Demon: Nightmare doesn’t only hate angels. He hates everyone affiliated with the Celestial Realm. And that includes...

Insect-like Demon: Yes, well. That includes **former angels** too.

Bat-like Demon: A sentiment not uncommon among the Abyss faction. Hehe. Let’s hope nobody told Nightmare about the **new exchange program**. Making friends with the angels? Tsk, tsk. That nonsense would **really piss him off**.

Insect-like Demon: Whatever the reason, the doors of the Valley of Ruin are closed to Lord Diavolo. He would have to gather an army and force his way in.

Bat-like Demon: The Abyss faction would **not** want to miss out on this event. They might even join in the fun. **On Nightmare’s side**.

Insect-like Demon: Nightmare may not be real, but...

Bat-like Demon: ...The ideals behind him are very real and shared by many.

Insect-like Demon: If they put whatever imaginary figure in charge of the Abyss faction —

Bat-like Demon and Insect-like Demon: — the Devildom will be plunged into a **civil war**.

MC: What about humans? Does Nightmare hate them too?

The two little demons look at each other. Some kind of silent exchange passes between them.

Bat-like Demon: Nobody knows.

Insect-like Demon: It’s not like there was ever a human who waltzed up to the doors of the Valley of Ruin and knocked.

Bat-like Demon: I don’t think humans even existed during the time of Chaos.

Insect-like Demon: The Valley of Ruin rarely emerges out of the Abyss. And it can never leave the borders of the Devildom. How many humans could wander in there?

Bat-like Demon: Chances are, Nightmare has never even **seen** one.

So, if I enter the Valley, and assuming Nightmare really exists, I probably won’t be killed before I’m seen. For a short while, I might even be considered a curiosity.

A brief window of opportunity is all I need.

I open the chat and type a quick message.

MC: Sent.

MC: Take me to the Valley of Ruin.

MC: I’m going to bring Luke out myself.


	6. Disconnected

_ding._

Lucifer opens the incoming message.

Lucifer: Calm down, everyone. It’s Mammon’s report.

[Mammon: I’m in the Purgatory Hall. Nobody’s in the entrance hall.]

[Mammon: Nobody in the living room.]

[Mammon: Luke’s not in his room, the door’s open.]

[Mammon: Nobody in the kitchen.]

[Mammon: Wait.]

[Mammon: There’s an empty bottle of Sunberry Milk on the table. Smells like our human.]

[Lucifer: Where is Simeon?]

[Mammon: I think he’s in his room. The light’s on.]

[Mammon: Simeon doesn’t answer his door. Gonna break it down now.]

[Lucifer: Hurry it up.]

[Lucifer: What’s taking so long?]

[Mammon: OUCH. He placed some kinda seal on the room from the inside. I got bounced off pretty far when I tried to break in.]

[Mammon: Now there’s a message in red flaming letters over the door. It says, **DO NOT DISTURB**.]

[Mammon: What should I do? Do I try again?]

[Lucifer: Stand by.]

Lucifer sends a text to Simeon, but there’s no reply.

Lucifer calls Simeon’s number.

[bzzzt]

Instead of a ring, a mechanical voice speaks in the D.D.D.

[Connection interrupted by the Heaven's Seal of Seclusion.]

[Please scan Michael’s signet to overwrite the seal, or try again in the morning.]

Lucifer: ...

Satan: ...

Leviathan: Whoa, I’ve never heard a message like that before! It’s **legendary**.

Asmodeus: W-what’s going on?

Beelzebub: Something **is** wrong.

Belphegor: (wriggle) (I think I’m finally wearing those handcuffs down!) (wriggle)

[Lucifer: Mammon, leave Simeon’s door in peace.]

[Lucifer: Go outside and investigate any lingering traces of a human.]

[Lucifer: Call me directly to report any unusual findings.]

[Mammon: Roger that.]

 _ding_.

Leviathan: Whaaah!

Asmodeus: That was your D.D.D. just now, wasn’t it, Levi?

Leviathan: I got the message! It’s **me** this time! ...Why **ME** of all demons?

Satan: Quickly open it. What are you fumbling for?

Leviathan: Gaaaah, can’t...open...my hands are shaking too much!

Satan: Give it here...!

With some assistance from Satan, the message is opened.

[MC: Bbl, searching for the lost dog.]

Everyone: ...

Lucifer: Levi, I need your expertise. BBL indicates a longer period of time than BRB, right?

Leviathan: R-right. BRB is like, “I’ll be back before you can miss me.” And BBL is more like, “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

Lucifer: **I don’t know when I’ll be back.** I see...

Lucifer quickly types a message for MC on his own D.D.D.

[Lucifer: Return to the House of Lamentation immediately. You have four minutes. That’s an order.]

Lucifer: Sent.

Asmodeus: (shakes his head) Lucifer, how much **finesse** went into this message? Also, four minutes? You know it takes at least twenty even if you run?

Leviathan: Wait. Something is wrong. Lucifer, your message wasn’t delivered.

Lucifer: Why do you say that?

Leviathan: See that spinning circle. It means the text is not coming through, because there’s no connection with the recipient. I get that sometimes when I try to text the sellers in the Abyss Auction.

Belphegor: !

Asmodeus: I’ve never seen that happen with my D.D.D. Levi, is this normal?

Leviathan: It’s...Mnn, I don’t know...The Devildom doesn’t have full coverage, after all, and the signal strength varies based on the phase of the moon, and other things, like the deeper you go, the weaker the signal is. This can happen... This can happen, but...

Satan: Lucifer, I think you better call our human directly now. Place it on the loudspeaker if you’re worried. This way, we can all speak.

Asmodeus: I’m sure it will go well this time, Lucifer.

Leviathan: Yeah, we’re here.

Lucifer: ...Very well.

Lucifer’s finger hovers over the call button.

_riiiing._

Everyone jumps.

Lucifer’s phone is ringing.

Lucifer: It’s from Mammon.

Lucifer answers the call.

[bzzt]

[Mammon’s distorted voice: ....fol lowed the sm ell this far...but...tr ail ends h ere...g one...]

[Lucifer: Mammon, you’re not coming through clearly. Where are you? What have you found?]

[Mammon’s distorted voice: ...clo sed...gate way to...lley of...ruin...]

Belphegor: **!!!**

[Lucifer: Mammon? Hello?]

[bzzt]

The call cuts off.

Beelzebub: Belphie, what’s wrong? You look really pale.

Everyone turns to look at Belphegor.

Belphegor doesn’t merely look pale. His face is ashen, and he’s staring back at them, wide-eyed and petrified, as though in a grip of a nightmare.

Lucifer: Belphie. My dear little brother.

Lucifer changes into his true form.

Lucifer: **Is there something you want to share with the rest of us?**


	7. Through the Gateway

I am chasing after the Insect-like Demon, who leads the way, leaving a glowing trail of fire in its wake. The Bat-like Demon is perched on my left shoulder, whispering into my ear.

Bat-like Demon: Nightmare doesn’t talk to anyone. He simply kills anyone who sees him.

How sociable.

Bat-like Demon: If possible, avoid meeting him face to face. Even if you think he’s there, don’t look at him directly.

That sounds like an entity straight out of a horror story.

Insect-like Demon: Hurry up, before the gateway to the Valley disappears! If it’s swallowed back by the Abyss before we get there, we won’t be able to find it again any time soon!

Bat-like Demon: But if worst comes to worst and you lay eyes upon him, do try to strike up a conversation with him.

MC: Will that...(gasp) help me...(pant) survive?

Bat-like Demon: No, but it will make you the most famous dead human in the Devildom.

Excuse me, **what**?

Bat-like Demon: Think about it. No human has ever exchanged words with Nightmare. If you manage to make him talk to you for a bit before he kills you, that in itself would be a legendary achievement, and your name will go down in the Devildom’s history.

Insect-like Demon: Hmph, how would anyone even learn that such a conversation took place? There would be **no witnesses**.

Bat-like Demon: But there would be rumors. **Accurate** rumors.

MC: (You just want something new to gossip about it!)

MC: (gasp) How did...Luke end up in there...(pant) anyway?

Bat-like Demon: Nightmare must have lured him in.

But how did Nightmare learn about Luke's existence and location in the first place? Not to mention, about the time when he'd be alone. Did someone tell him?

Insect-like Demon: Keep up the pace! We’re getting close now!

Yes, I can tell. The vegetation we’re passing through is getting **really** strange.

Bat-like Demon: Nightmare understands angels better than any other demon does. After all, he has devoured the hearts of many an angel. He knows how to make beautiful things, shiny things. They say he has an artistic streak.

MC: He…(gasp) makes… (pant) things?

Bat-like Demon: Engraved walls and sculptures out of the bones of fallen demons and angels. The soil soaked with blood of fallen legions, the air permeated with Prime, is the domain where he is absolute master. It is his playground. He builds things, grows things, shapes things, alters the very world around him. Watch out for abrupt changes in the environment, because those indicate his presence.

Insect-like Demon: We’re almost there! One last push!

Bat-like Demon: One last word of warning. Even high-ranked angels fall prey to Nightmare. He will have no trouble seeing into the heart of a mere human like you. He will know just what you want, and he will use **your deepest desire** against you.

Insect-like Demon: We have reached the gateway! Quickly come through, it’s beginning to sink!

The ground shudders underneath my feet. I barely manage to keep my balance. Is that a solid gray wall right ahead? Or is it fog?

Bat-like Demon: They say Nightmare has a name, but nobody knows what it is.

Insect-like Demon: Prepare to enter the gateway!

Bat-like Demon: Brace yourself.

I plunge headlong into the gray fog. Instantly, I am disoriented. The fog is really thick, it’s resisting my movements, and getting thicker still with every step I’m taking. I push forward blindly, my arms outstretched.

The ground is wobbling and shifting. I can no longer see the glowing trail of the Insect-like Demon. I can’t feel the Bat-like Demon’s claws on my shoulder.

But their words are still reaching me, muffled and fading, as though from a great distance.

Insect-like Demon: We can’t follow you any further. You’re on your own, exchange student. Remember, Lord Diavolo placed his hopes on you.

Bat-like Demon: Don’t get swarmed and eaten by the lower demons. May the higher one eat you instead.

Then a huge bubble emerges from under my feet and swallows me whole.

I am falling, or perhaps I am sinking. I can’t estimate the speed of my fall, nor how much time has passed.

Then, just as abruptly as it began, the descent is over.

The fog lifts, and I find myself in a strange place.


	8. My Deepest Desire

Am I inside the Valley of Ruin now?

Is this... a statue garden?

The red moonlight is streaming from above, illuminating the sculptures surrounding me. I can’t see too far away, because the rest of the space is hidden in the fog.

Aside from these sculptures, there doesn't seem to be anyone here...

I take a tentative step forward, and the ground crunches softly under my feet.

The air is different here, but not unpleasantly so. It feels rich, as if saturated with a heady fragrance I can’t perceive with my human senses. It’s seeping deeper into my lungs with every breath I take.

I examine the sculptures around me. They all appear to be statues of angels, because all of them have white wings.

Did Nightmare make all of these? He has some skill. These statues are really life-like.

In front of me is a young angel girl with an innocent smile, one hand pressed to her heart. To my left is a pair of little angels, brother and sister, holding hands and looking at each other. To my right is a sleepy angel with a dreamy gaze. Behind me is a gray-haired angel with a strict mouth, blindfolded and holding a scale.

But my attention is drawn to a bone-white wall a little further away. Does it have some sort of engraving on it?

If Nightmare engraved it, I wonder what sort of message he chose to convey with it. Perhaps if I see the engraving, I would be able to learn something about him. With some luck, I might understand him better. I could use any little bit of knowledge, to give me an edge.

I walk past the statue of a sleepy angel and approach the wall.

_Crunch, crunch._

Up close, I can see it clearly. This majestic engraving depicts two armies facing each other on a battlefield, about to clash in bitter conflict. It is done with utmost skill, both grand in scale and containing many intricate details.

On the left side, there is an army of demons led by a horned figure.

The horned leader’s face is concealed by a helmet. He’s heavily armoured, and he’s brandishing an enormous halberd.

His back is guarded by another demon, slender and lighter-armoured. The slender demon’s face is turned away from the audience, and he’s wielding a black garrote.

On the right side, there is an army of angels led by a majestic archangel with golden wings. The archangel is wielding a flaming spear.

I blink. Something is off about the archangel’s posture and his gaze. Does he look...distracted?

No, he’s focused. But not on the upcoming battle. His spear is tilted down. His face is turned slightly. Instead of facing the horned leader, he seems to be looking somewhere else. But I cannot quite pinpoint the direction of his gaze. Is he looking at someone in the opposing army?

I blink again. Without realizing it, I came up pretty close to the carved wall.

Didn’t the bat-like demon say these walls were made out of the bones of fallen demons and angels? That could be dangerous...

Instinctively, I take a step back.

_crunch._

Wait. What is that feeling?

I stop in my tracks.

This feeling. A familiar, nostalgic sensation, both a welcome and a warning. It’s emanating from the engraving. This is...

I reach out my hand and touch the carved wall.

I knew it. This is the same familiar sensation, cold and burning at once, heavy and comforting danger, full of blue sapphire flame, that little demons give off. The living darkness from which they come when summoned and to which they return when dismissed, the same essence that permeates the Devildom, is manifested here, in this statue garden.

Perhaps this is what the bat-like demon called Prime, that which Nightmare uses for creation. One wrong move, and this living darkness would swallow me whole.

I’m going to miss this sensation when I leave. Perhaps, once I remove my hand, I would never feel it again.

I don’t remove my hand. I just stand there, rooted in place.

One breath, two, three.

Three breaths have passed, yet the living darkness doesn’t slip away from my fingers.

MC: Haha...this is nice...

This is different from demons.

They’re always moving and disappearing at will, only briefly tolerating my touch. A fleeting presence at best. Borrowed. Only temporarily mine.

And the next morning, when I return, it will be mine no more.

But this statue garden is different. It must have been here for centuries. And it will always be here. Forever.

The definition of eternity.

**A perfect place to stay.**

A jolt courses through me, and a chill runs down my spine.

That...wasn’t my own thought.

Someone **else** just spoke in my mind.

Yet I don’t remove my hand. I just stand here, listening.

The carved wall is humming under my touch. Quiet, alien thoughts form in my mind, seeping into my consciousness like a sweet poison, insidious and persuasive.

[Wandering human, let the living darkness enter your blood, your marrow, your heart, your very soul.]

[Let me bind your soul to this place.]

[I will give you a permanent home, a place to belong.]

[Join hands with me. I will not betray you like the others. I will **never** let go of your hand.]

I don't move from the spot. My entire hand is engulfed in liquid sapphire flame. I can no longer tell where my fingers end and the carved wall begins. I can no longer tell those quiet thoughts apart from my own.

Join hands with this flame forever. Stay here forever.

**You will never have to leave the Devildom.**

This...

MC: This doesn’t sound so bad.


	9. The Spy

Lucifer: So, let me see if I got this straight.

Lucifer: Back when you were held prisoner, Avatar of Ruin made contact with you in your dreams.

Belphegor: He did.

Lucifer: You’ve been talking to him regularly ever since.

Belphegor: I have.

Lucifer: You told him about the reason for your confinement, and all about Lord Diavolo’s exchange program.

Belphegor: I...did.

Lucifer: And you told him about the angels staying in the Purgatory Hall.

Belphegor: ...

Lucifer: Belphie. Is that correct?

Belphegor: I...am not sure.

Lucifer: **You are not sure.**

Belphegor: I might have mentioned angels at some point. Or the Purgatory Hall. We have discussed...many things. I can’t keep track of it all, I’m not sure, I don’t remember.

Lucifer: Did you tell him about the human exchange students?

Belphegor: I don’t know, I’m not sure, I don’t remember!

Belphegor: ...

Belphegor: I...probably did?

Lucifer: Did you tell him the name of the human exchange student who’s been staying here in the House of Lamentation?

Belphegor: **No**. No, I didn’t!

Lucifer: You are sure about this.

Belphegor: **Yes** , I am **sure**. At that time, I didn’t even know the name myself. I was still a prisoner, I was only talking to Nightmare to pass the time, I felt lonely and bored and had no one to talk to at all. I just wanted some company.

Belphegor turns to face Beelzebub.

Belphegor: But I told him **nothing** about our human. I am positive about this. You have to believe me, Beel!

Beelzebub: I believe you, Belphie. Your voice sounds hoarse. Would you like a glass of Nightshade Milk?

Belphegor opens his mouth and closes it again without saying anything.

Everyone: ...

Beelzebub: Haha, I forgot. We don’t have Nightshade Milk here. Well, how about some water instead?

Belphegor and Beelzebub look at each other.

Belphegor: (You know I hate Nightshade Milk, right? I can’t drink it.)

Beelzebub: (Yes. I know.)

Belphegor: Beel, are you...angry with me?

Beelzebub: That’s impossible. I can never be angry at you, Belphie. **Everything that happened is my fault.**

Asmodeus: Ahem. I’m just going to ask the question everyone is thinking, okay?

Asmodeus: Belphie, when you asked our human to bring you a glass of milk, were you working together with Avatar of Ruin?

Satan: Did you intentionally lead our human into a trap?

Belphegor: **NO**!

Lucifer: You realize that’s a little hard to believe?

Asmodeus: Maybe you did that and just don’t remember? Or maybe you’re in denial. He’s been messing with your dreams for a while now. Your mind isn't clear, and you sound confused. You can’t even rely on your own memories. You can no longer trust yourself, can you? 

Satan: He probably promised you many of the things that you wanted. Like ending Diavolo's exchange program, by killing all the exchange students. Maybe he even meant to fulfill those promises.

Leviathan: You did that on purpose, just admit it. Your timing was too good.

Satan: There are no coincidences like that.

Belphegor: I did that on purpose, yes, but **not** to lead anyone into a trap. I was trying to protect our human!

Lucifer: Protect how?

Belphegor: Nightmare’s got those agents, little demons that look like bats. I saw one lurking nearby at the House of Lamentation, sniffing around, peeping into our living room’s window.

Belphegor: Nightmare probably knows a human is living here, and he wanted to have a look. He sent out his spy to gather information. He’s very curious about humans.

Belphegor: I didn’t want our human to be seen. So I came up with that stupid “fetch me a glass of milk” excuse on the spot. How else would you send someone out of the living room quickly, without appearing suspicious?

Asmodeus: Mmm, but, Belphie. You know you could’ve just told us about him?

Belphegor: (shakes head) I couldn’t have done that. Nightmare would have known instantly. And then I would have lost the only contact I had with him. And then I’d no longer know what he’s planning.

Lucifer: Which method did he use to contact you?

Belphegor: He visited me in the dreamscape. I know he came in through the Desert of Delusion. He is a master of disguise, and can pass through the Desert unnoticed. And the Desert —

Lucifer: — borders on the Abyss, yes.

Satan: That means Nightmare had to pass through three different hostile domains each time he wanted to have a conversation. He went through a lot of trouble in order to talk to Belphie...

Belphegor: (mutters) I thought the milk excuse was a great idea at the time. In a minute or two, after seeing nothing unusual, the agent would get bored and leave, and it would be safe to return to the living room.

Belphegor: Who knew that Nightmare had already spread his net that wide, and he would even use an angel as bait for a human?

Lucifer: Is this really what he’s doing?

Satan: His goal was to lure a human into the Valley from the start?

Belphegor: What else could it be? He’d seen hundreds of angels already, and probably tens of thousands of demons. But not a single human. It’s clear which holds more interest and novelty to him, and which is merely a means to an end.

Belphegor: I know he’s searching for something, but I don’t know what. He’s been searching for a while. Millennia, maybe.

Belphegor: Even after talking to him all this time, I still can't claim to understand him. Maybe all he really wants is some entertainment.

Belphegor: The hearts and souls of angels and demons, which he devoured and dissected countless times, no longer hold any secrets to him.

Belphegor: He wants something new to examine and to put to the test.

Belphegor: A human soul, and a human heart.


	10. The Loose Ends

I must have closed my eyes at some point, because I can no longer see anything. I can’t feel my arm. My whole body is going numb. My senses are shutting down.

This is peaceful, like falling asleep.

Far away, I hear an angel crying.

**...Just ignore it. Sleep.**

I can’t sleep. The crying noise is bothering me. It is impossible to ignore.

**What an annoyance. How did he escape again?**

I can’t see anything. Where is the crying angel?

**There is nowhere to hide. He should know by now it’s pointless to keep running away.**

Run away from what? Is the angel in danger? He sounds...young. And desolate.

**Pay no attention to it. He'll be quiet shortly.**

_Hehe, the Valley of Ruin eats angels._

Nnn. Don’t tell me there’s an angel being eaten right now?

Or is he still being chased?

**Why is he so fast?**

I twitch in distress. In response, darkness presses harder on my senses, enveloping me in a thick fog.

**Found you. Back to the cage with you, and SILENCE.**

The crying voice cuts off.

...What happened to the angel?

**There is no angel.**

I can’t hear the crying voice anymore. There is no angel.

But now I’m too disturbed to sleep.

**Why can’t you sleep?**

The silence is bothering me.

**Why are you humans so fussy? What is it you want?**

What do I want?

**...That was a rhetorical question. Disregard it.**

No, that was a very good question. There **is** something that I want. But what is it?

**You want to stay in the Devildom forever.**

Yes, but that’s not **all** I want. There is something else, aside from that. Something **more important**.

I search my fuzzy consciousness for the answer. My memories...are so blurry and disjointed...

Isn’t there something I’ve forgotten?

**There is nothing left.**

Wasn't I supposed to do something here, in this place?

**No unfinished business. No loose ends.**

I turn around the tangled yarn of my memories and pull on a random end.

_Bbl, searching for the lost dog._

Huh, I have a dog? And I lost him?

**...What? Pfft. A fitting moniker.**

_Don’t call me a dog._

That indignant voice from my memory sounds really familiar. Didn’t I hear it just now, crying? So I know that angel?

Does he belong to me?

**There is no angel.**

I am starting to doubt that.

This voice speaking in my mind...is probably not my own.

[...Ahem.]

[Really, there is no angel. This is the Devildom. Where would you even meet an angel?]

Oh, I know the answer to that question!

[That was a rhetorical —]

In the Purgatory Hall, of course.

For a second, an indistinct face flashes through my consciousness, unusually solemn and sad.

_I have a lot of Sunberry Milk, if you want any?_

Why does he look so sad? He's not crying, is he? I want to comfort him...

_It will be okay. I promise._

I made a **promise**?

This is bad. Not only I lost my dog, but I also made a promise I haven’t fulfilled. That’s more than one loose end already.

I can’t go to sleep until this is resolved.

As though responding to my decision, something heats up in my pocket.

[...What is this thing?]

I know, right? What IS this? I wish I knew myself.

Whatever it is, it feels heavy.

Heavy, like the weight of responsibility I undertook.

_You’re on your own, exchange student. Remember, Lord Diavolo placed his hopes on you._

I have a duty...to carry out…the third **loose end**...

OW! That thing is **burning a hole** in my pocket!

The scorching heat and the smell of burning fabric shock me into full awareness.

My vision clears at once, and I can see the statue garden again.

MC: What the...?


	11. The Black Mirror

The carved wall is gone.

In front of me is an enormous black mirror with a purple frame, hovering above the ground.

My right arm is submerged into the mirror up to my elbow.

MC: !!!

I try to yank my arm back. It won’t move. Like a quagmire, the mirror is holding me fast.

MC: (I can’t break free...!)

A pair of burning sapphire hands reach out of the mirror, close around my arm, and start dragging me further in.

MC: Don’t mess with me...!

With my free hand, I pull a talisman out of my pocket. It is an ancient-looking reliquary, with a large onyx gem at the center. Lucifer gave it to me as a gift. I found it useful for keeping the lower demons in check.

Taking a good swing, I strike at the sapphire hands with my talisman.

The talisman disintegrates. I hear a hiss of pain and surprise from the mirror. The hands release me and withdraw hastily back into the mirror.

No good, such a powerful talisman is gone in an instant! I don’t think it even did any damage. My opponent was merely startled. At most, I bought a moment or two of delay.

My mind is racing.

I need to break free. I need to find Luke quickly.

How do I deal with this black mirror?

I scrutinize the mirror. It looks a little familiar. Have I seen something like that before? Maybe in a museum somewhere? Or during one of my lessons in RAD?

That’s right, it was at RAD!

I remember now. The hooded lecturer with glowing red eyes and sibilant voice talked about **instruments for extracting a soul**. He showed us pictures, and the tall black mirror with a purple frame was in one of them. He was good at explaining things in simple terms.

I still remember most of his lecture.

[Extracting a soul is a delicate process that requires control, precision, accuracy, and skill. All of these are necessary for success. In the hands of an unskilled practitioner, a soul can be damaged or even completely destroyed.]

[Damaging the soul lowers its value. Avoid breaking the vessel before extraction. When extracting from a broken vessel rather than from an intact one, the soul is at risk of coming out damaged.]

[Utterly destroying the soul is an extremely unfavorable outcome, and must be avoided at all cost. Not only do you lose a precious resource, but this act goes against heaven’s law and will inevitably draw the ire of the Department of Judgement.]

[To increase our chances of success, we first obtain the consent of the vessel. For most of you, that’s all you’ll ever have to do. Once this is done, fill in the paperwork and hand the case over to the experts. But if you want to join those experts one day, or simply wish to experiment on your own, listen on.]

[If consent of the vessel cannot be obtained, or is withdrawn during the ritual due to some paperwork error, the chance of success drops to thirty percent. In such a situation, the case will generally not proceed any further. The vessel will be returned to its natural habitat, and the demon who messed up the paperwork will pay the price.]

[But in some exceptionally rare cases, you have to do a **forcible extraction of a soul** anyway. In such a case, it is important to keep the vessel sleeping and sedated. If the vessel is actively struggling and moving about, the chance of success drops as low as ten percent. In this absolute worst case scenario, everything depends on your own skill.]

[Remember the three key words. **Control. Precision. Accuracy**.]

The surface of the mirror ripples, jolting me out of my memories. The opponent on the other side of the mirror is making a move.

The inky-black surface of the mirror is clearing. A reflection started to appear within.

An uneasy feeling overcomes me.

I don’t want to see what’s reflected there.

The reflection shapes into a young angel girl, and I face Lilith.

Lilith: Why do you struggle? You’re on the route that leads to a dead end.

A bone-chilling cold travels up my arm, seeping into me, immobilizing me.

I can’t move.

Lilith: There is no future for a pawn. You were always disposable. Once a tool serves its purpose, it will be discarded.

My elbow has sunk into the mirror.

I didn’t notice when it happened.

Lilith: No one will miss you. No one will even realize that you’re gone. Everything you have belongs to me. Even your power is borrowed. Everything you’ve done, is done by my will and by my power. They will look into your eyes and only see **me**.

Lilith: **You are nothing.**

My ears are buzzing. Something weird is happening. Two voices overlap in my mind. I can hear the angelic voice of Lilith, speaking to me from the mirror. But I can also hear the quiet, sibilant voice of the hooded lecturer from my memory.

[Control can be achieved through negative metaphysical influence, including but not limited to: deception, false visions, false dreams, suppressing significant memories, suppressing significant bonds, suppressing the will to live, inflicting sensory deprivation, inflicting mental confusion, inflicting despair.]

Lilith: There is no need for you to run away from oblivion. You know the truth within your heart, don’t you?

[Precision can be achieved through physically immobilizing the vessel.]

Lilith: **You never existed in the first place.**

[Avoid damaging the vessel during the ritual. This lowers precision.]

With my whole strength, I wrench my trapped arm and twist my body to the left. There is a sickening crunch. I feel no pain. I feel nothing in the whole right side of my body.

Lilith’s angelic face contorts into a grimace.

Lilith: **Stay still**.

MC: As if I’m going to do that!

I flail about randomly. Judging from the sounds, my arm is already broken in at least three places. I don’t dare to stop. One moment of stillness could mean the end.

Lilith’s shape blurs and forms into another, indistinct image. It seems to be a tall male demon, his hands held up in the manner of a surgeon, his long, scalpel-like talons shining with eerie green light. Before I can make out his face, the surface of the mirror darkens again.

Voice: Very well. **Let’s do this the hard way**.

Thousands of needles shoot out of the mirror and pierce my body. I am shocked into a moment of stillness. The needles are connected to the mirror by almost invisible green threads.

A terrible sensation overcomes me. As though something is tearing me out of myself.

I struggle, but it no longer seems to have any effect. The threads are following my movements smoothly.

[If you’re unable to immobilize the vessel, you could try predicting its movements, if you have the skill for it.]

Realization strikes me. The demon sees my reflection in the mirror. That is why it’s inky black on my end. He’s predicting my movements.

As long as he sees me, I can’t escape.

[Accuracy can be achieved through keeping your instrument clean and free of all contaminants. A good instrument will take care of that on its own. Ideally, it should have a large surface and self-cleaning charms to automatically remove dust particles and other organic and inorganic contaminants.]

[However, even a top-grade Abyssian instrument is bound to develop distortions if it’s tainted by a Celestial product. So don’t go splashing your obsidian altars with holy water, got it?]

With my free hand, I reach behind me and pull a bottle of Sunberry Milk out of my backpack.

Voice: What are you —

I smash the bottle into the mirror.

The bottle shatters. The glowing drink, made from handpicked Celestial sunberries, splashes all over the mirror’s surface.

There is a yell of outrage.

The surface of the mirror distorts and ripples.

All needles are withdrawn from my body at once. I breathe in relief at the sensation of having returned to myself.

The glowing liquid sizzles and bubbles, fumes rising from the mirror’s surface. Gradually, the glow begins to evaporate. The demon is taking care of the “contaminant”.

He is making rapid progress.

I can hear him cursing under his breath in a language too ancient for me to recognize.

Meanwhile, the mirror is going wild. Dark images are flashing in its depth, giving me an impression of a camera spinning through time and space, focusing on random objects.

A familiar scene comes into view. I recognize it even through the glowing film of Celestial drink splattered over its surface.

It’s the statue garden I came through.

I see all the sculptures once again, but from a different perspective.

The young girl with an innocent smile, one hand pressed against her chest, is holding her other hand behind her back, clenching a hidden dagger.

The pair of little angels, brother and sister, are chained to each other with barbed manacles, blood dripping down their interlocked fingers.

The blindfolded angel holding a scale has thousands of eyes upon her back, all blinking and staring.

And the sleepy angel —

The scene within the mirror changes.

I can see the grand engraving once again, but now it’s in motion. In fact, the picture is so vivid that I could swear I am present at the battlefield itself.

Two armies stand facing each other, on the brink of perpetual conflict.

The golden-winged archangel is looking at the opposing army. He meets the gaze of the slender demon standing behind the horned leader, and nods.

In this single moment, I understand what is about to happen. Once it happens, it will become irreversible. Not just for this one battle, but all of the battles. Not just for this one location, but for all the worlds.

I open my mouth to shout a warning, but it comes too late.

The slender demon loops the garrote around the horned leader’s neck, strangling him.

The picture freezes. The glow is almost gone from the mirror. But, it’s strange. Most of the remaining glow is gathered around the slender demon who backstabbed his own leader.

It is as if something in that area is drawing the glow in.

Something shaped like a golden pentacle.

Realization strikes me like a lightning bolt.

It’s the **nucleus**.

Every artifact-grade Abyssian instrument has one. Nucleus serves as a power source. And it has other uses as well...

But before I can remember what those are, the rest of the glow vanishes from the mirror, and it reverts to its inky-black surface.

A chain shoots out of the mirror and wraps around my torso.

I am being crushed…!

My vision goes black. In his rage, the demon must have given up on extracting the soul from an intact vessel. He intends to kill me first.

The chain tightens and tugs on me. Instead of resisting the pull, I follow the movement and plunge headlong into the mirror.

With a revolting squelch, the mirror sucks me in and swallows me whole.

I can tell that my opponent did not expect this. For a moment, he stumbles and loses his balance. The chain loosens, and I throw it off.

I find myself inside a heavy fog.

The fog is in all directions, and there is no sense of up and down. I don’t know which way leads back anymore. But that’s not important, because what I need is right here, within this mirror.

There. The flash of gold to the right.

I take off running, pushing through the heavy fog.

The sibilant voice sounds again in my mind.

[Lastly, let's talk about instrument maintenance and the basic safety rules. If you can only remember one rule, remember this one.]

[No matter what, **do not remove the nucleus from an active instrument**.]

As I move, there is a change within the fog. The gray color changes into a black one.

I see. My opponent can’t see me anymore, so he has decided to poison the entire thing.

As the black fumes touch me, my flesh shrivels and starts to disintegrate.

This isn’t poison. **This is annihilation.**

[Don't make such a stupid, amateurish mistake. Don’t be hasty and sloppy. Wait until the ritual is completely over before removing the nucleus for maintenance. Good rule of thumb: the soul should already be extracted, and sealed within its package.]

I see the golden pentacle. It is close.

[If you don’t follow this basic safety rule, your instrument will be **destroyed** , the soul you’re trying to extract will be **destroyed** , and you yourself will receive a **backlash** , the power of which will send you into recovery for who knows how many **centuries**.]

The pentacle is right in front of me, and the golden crystal is floating inside it.

This is the nucleus.

[And I, myself, will personally place your name on the board of shame for the rest of the Devildom to laugh at.]

Such a nostalgic voice. Too bad I’ll never hear it again.

The enemy has given up on keeping me alive. We never managed to have a proper conversation, face to face. Perhaps we never meant to get along in the first place. It seems all he wanted was my soul, and he had no interest in knowing anything else.

And to be honest, I don’t like him that much either. It pissed me off that he made Luke cry.

If I can take my enemy down with me for a couple of centuries at the price of my soul, Luke will be able to get away.

And if the whole Devildom laughs at Nightmare for being an amateur, that’s just an added bonus.

Sounds like a **fair deal**.

I reach out and grasp the nucleus with my skeletal hand.


	12. A Nucleus Is a Useful Thing to Have

I remove the nucleus from the pentacle.

There is a soft click.

The pentacle flickers and turns red. Everything turns red. All around me, a siren starts howling.

Through the ear-splitting noise of the siren, I can hear a voice screaming.

Voice: **WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?**

Fine spiderweb cracks appear in reality. The cracks keep spreading, widening.

Voice: **STOP!**

For a single, impossible moment, time comes to a halt.

The siren is silent.

The cracks are frozen in place.

The red pentacle is frozen.

They say that just before your death, your life flashes before your eyes. That must be at least somewhat true, because I experience an incredibly vivid, detailed memory.

I am back into my classroom at RAD, doodling idly in my notebook. I have managed to draw a demon with white hair, goofy smile, sharp horns, and without a tail.

MC: (whisper) Hey, Mammon, look. Does it look like you?

Mammon: (glances at the drawing)

Mammon: (SNICKER)

Hooded Lecturer: Mammon, do you have a question?

Mammon: ?!

Mammon: Who, me? I, uh...um....

Hooded Lecturer: You don’t? Then perhaps you'd like to contribute a personal story about a successful soul extraction?

MC: (raises hand) I have a question.

Hooded Lecturer: ...Very well. Let’s hear what kind of question a human student may have.

MC: So if you mess up and remove a nucleus from an active instrument, that’s it? The whole thing just goes up in smoke, there’s no salvaging anything?

Hooded Lecturer: There is no salvaging the instrument, and salvaging the soul would take more resources than it's worth. But you can still salvage the nucleus. A nucleus is a useful thing to have.

MC: What kind of uses does it have?

Hooded Lecturer: Quite many. The most obvious one is a portable source of power, of course. But there are other applications. A nucleus can be a metaphysical cauldron, an emergency ration, a mini-refinery... (warming up to the subject)

Mammon: (Good thinking, you managed to distract him!)

MC: (Shhh!)

Hooded Lecturer: ...it can even be a method to steal someone’s identity...

Mammon: (Man, your drawing is REALLY bad. Who’d want to **look** at it?)

MC: (Keep your voice down!)

Hooded Lecturer: ...a preserving container for a soul...

Mammon: (Terrible. It looks terrible from every angle.)

MC: (Want me to throw it out?)

Mammon: (Yeah, gimme it, I’ll get rid of it for ya. When I find the time.)

MC: (You're really going to toss it?)

Mammon: (...I'm a busy demon, so that might take a while. I might just keep it, in the meantime.)

Hooded Lecturer: ...in an emergency, you can eat the nucleus for some quick healing...

MC: (Here you go. Want me to draw Lucifer next?)

The memory fades.

I am hit with the blaring of the siren. Time has resumed its movement once again, and reality is cracking, on the verge of breaking.

Can a nucleus be eaten by a human? Or maybe only demons can do it?

Can it really heal me, or protect my soul from the blast?

Only one way to find out.

I stuff the nucleus into my mouth and chew.

UGH, It’s like eating molten lava. The outer shell crumbles, and something incredibly hot and bright flows out, explodes in my mouth, burns my throat, sets my chest on fire, spreads all over my body, and lights me up from the inside like a mini-sun.

This glow is so strong, it even repels the black fog. I am enveloped in that brightness, as though inside a golden cocoon.

There are cracks everywhere now. The siren’s howling builds up to a high, hysterical note.

The world shatters.

...

...

MC: ...

I open my eyes.


	13. Restrained

I'm lying on the floor, and the red moon is shining down on me.

I am alive.

What’s more, I am fully healed.

I stare at my intact hands.

It is as though the black fog had never happened, and my flesh had never disintegrated in the first place. Even my mangled right arm is restored to its former state, without any sign of damage.

What about the rest of me?

I make a quick check.

I still got both arms and both legs. My eyes are still in their sockets, and my ears are still attached.

I check my heart. It is still beating in my chest.

There is no doubt that I am still in possession of my soul. After experiencing the sensation of it being extracted from my body, I would definitely know if it’s missing.

I feel invigorated, refreshed, and elated.

MC: Haha.

Nothing is missing at all.

In fact, I feel like I have **gained something else** , in addition to my own soul.

I am not quite sure what it is. But if I focus, I can sense it swirl at the edge of my consciousness, a whirlpool of brilliant golden light. It reminds me of Demonic Prime, except that it feels like a radically different element.

So this is nucleus?

It turns out it really protected me. It even healed the damage from the black fog. And its powers are not even nearing exhaustion...

This must be a very valuable and useful thing indeed.

MC: Haha, I am an expert at borrowing powers from others!

The black mirror is in front of me, shattered into fragments. Broken shards are littering the obsidian floor. Even the purple frame is melted and deformed. The formerly sinister object is dull and lifeless.

It doesn’t take a Master Artifactor to tell that the instrument for extracting souls is broken beyond repair.

MC: Ahaha.

MC: Muahahaha!

An icy breeze touches my face. My laughter cuts off. This isn’t the time to be celebrating. I should get up off the floor and —

The floor sags slightly underneath me.

MC: Ugh, what?

Before I can move, vines shoot up from the floor and entwine around my feet and wrists, securing me in place.

MC: !

The floor is softening. I feel it turn into a damp, rich soil underneath me. In a wide circle around me, countless flowers bloom.

MC: ??

I am overcome with a heady fragrance of spring flowers. They look so gentle and delicate, so soothing and soft.

In a few moments, I find myself lying amidst a flower bed.

_The abrupt changes in environment indicate his presence._

MC: ...

MC: **Where are you?**

An invisible force lifts the shards of the broken mirror and draws them back into the frame, assembling them together like puzzle pieces.

MC: Hmph, even if you fuse the mirror back together, it still won’t work without a nucleus! At best, you can use it as a large glass.

Voice: True enough.

The surface of the mirror flashes once, ripples, and Belphegor steps out of it.

* * *

_riiing._

Solomon takes out his D.D.D.

Solomon: (A call from Lucifer?)

Solomon presses the button to answer the call.

Solomon: ?!

Solomon’s eyes widen. Dropping the D.D.D., he brings his hands together to form a seal.

He is a fraction of a second too late. A black lighting bolt strikes him from behind, and he collapses.

Two hooded demons catch him and lower him to the ground.

Long-tailed Demon: Quickly now!

Fluffy-tailed Demon takes out a bag and spills dozens of dark bracelets on the ground.

Long-tailed Demon picks up one bracelet and locks it around Solomon’s wrist.

The bracelet glows. A chain of dark runes appears on its surface.

Almost immediately, there is a distortion in the bracelet’s glow. The light flickers and falters. The runes fade.

Hurriedly, Long-tailed Demon locks another bracelet around Solomon’s wrist, then another one.

As he reaches for the next bracelet, the first one crumbles into dust.

Fluffy-tailed Demon: Crap!

Long-tailed Demon: Take his other arm, hurry!

Fluffy-tailed Demon joins his efforts.

For a few seconds, the two demons keep locking more and more bracelets around Solomon’s wrists, while the previous bracelets keep crumbling into dust.

When the crumbling finally stops, there is a small pile of dust near them.

Each of Solomon’s wrists bears only a single bracelet, with a chain of dark runes glowing on its surface, moving in circles.

The two demons study Solomon’s motionless figure. Both of them have identical expressions in their eyes. They look fearful.

Fluffy-tailed Demon: Did we...get him?

Long-tailed Demon: ...Looks like it.

Fluffy-tailed Demon: Whew. What a rush.

Long-tailed Demon: I thought his personal ward would never run out of power.

Fluffy-tailed Demon: To be honest, I never thought this would work. He noticed us even with the artifact of concealment. Barbatos should really do this sort of thing on his own. Why send us?

Long-tailed Demon: You know he can't do that, because of the pact.

Fluffy-tailed Demon: Why would Barbatos make a pact with this monster in the first place? Is he really a sorcerer, or an archdemon? We ended up using all the runic restraints from the treasury. Just how much power does he have?

Long-tailed Demon: These chains should buy us some time until we bring him inside the sealing pentagram. All right, enough chatting, back to the base!

The two demons pick Solomon up and disappear into darkness.

Solomon’s D.D.D. is left lying on the ground, unnoticed.

The call is still connected.

* * *

Lucifer: ...

Lucifer is staring at the D.D.D. in his hand. There is an dark expression on his face.

Asmodeus: Lucifer, Solomon isn’t picking up?

Lucifer: ...

Asmodeus: Want me to **call** him?

Belphegor: Hey, Asmo. Do you think you can remove those handcuffs from me now?


	14. A Familiar Face

As soon as Belphegor steps out of the mirror, it cracks into shards once again behind him. It seems that he had repaired it only temporarily, just long enough for him to pass through.

No longer held together, the shards rain down upon the floor.

The demon approaches me and stares down at me.

Belphegor: How could a human have the willpower to cling to life like that?

I stare up at him. This is... Nightmare, right?

He’s got to be. It makes no sense for Belphie to be here.

Yet he looks exactly like Belphie. His face, his voice, his mannerisms, everything is the same.

Even...his words.

For a moment, I truly doubt the identity of the demon before me.

MC: Who are you?

Belphegor: You already know, don’t you?

The demon bows slightly, his clenched fist pressed to his opposite shoulder. This is the first gesture that does not belong to Belphegor.

Belphegor: I am Nightmare, Avatar of Ruin.

MC: Why do you look like...that?

Nightmare: I thought a familiar face could help to ease the tension between us. It could create common ground, and serve as a conversation starter.

MC: ...You still want to have a conversation with me? Didn't you try to annihilate me just now? I thought you wanted me dead.

Nightmare lowers his eyes.

Nightmare: I didn’t mean to kill you. I didn’t plan to extract your soul either.

Nightmare: I'm happy that you managed to survive. And I'm glad that you managed to keep your soul.

It feels strange, hearing those words when he's wearing Belphie’s face.

MC: So you did it on impulse...?

Does that mean his Avatar took over? I've seen it happen enough times to know just how lethal that could be, but...

I can’t help but feel skeptical. Didn’t he start the soul extraction right after I entered his domain? I wasn’t even here long. Whatever did I do to provoke him?

I look into Belphegor’s face.

Or maybe it didn’t matter what I did. Maybe it’s my existence itself that offends him.

Perhaps, in the end, one’s actions don’t matter. Your fate is decided from the moment of your birth.

Nightmare: From the moment you entered my domain, I knew we had an affinity. Your soul is the special kind I have an interest in.

Nightmare: Knowing that you might be leaving the Devildom soon, I panicked. There is no direct route between the Abyss and the human realm. No easy way for me to reach you. I felt the need to secure you right away.

Nightmare: I’ve been searching for someone like you for a long time. Once I saw you right in front of me, I...

Nightmare: I lost control.

Someone like me? The special kind of soul?

Is he referring to my connection to Lilith? That’s the only thing that’s special about me.

Nightmare looks deeply into my eyes.

Nightmare: I chose a familiar face in order to gain an advantage, but...

Nightmare: Perhaps I chose wrong?

Belphegor’s shape blurs and transforms into someone else.

Luke: Is this better?

MC: !

Luke is beaming at me.

Luke: Finally, you’re here! I’ve been waiting for you forever. What took you so long?

MC: !!

For a moment, my mind is thrown into turmoil.

I’ve been worried about Luke so much. I thought I’d never see him again. But there he is, standing right in front of me. I can’t help but feel happy to see his smile.

Even though I know it’s not truly him.

Nightmare: Oh? Yes, this face elicits a much better reaction. I should be pleased about it. I wonder why I’m not?

Nightmare: Do you like the little angel?

...Where is this conversation heading now? Isn’t it veering off the rails?

Nightmare: Is that it? Is that why you followed him here?

MC: ...Isn’t this the result you wanted?

Nightmare: I knew there was some bond between you and the little angel, enough to lure you here. But I didn’t think the bond would be **that strong**. I didn’t expect a human to go that far for an angel.

Nightmare: To save him, you would even risk your soul's very existence.

Nightmare: This is **really irritating**.

An icy breeze touches my hair. The flowers around me shrivel and wither in the cold.

MC: Where is Luke?

Nightmare: I should **devour** the little angel, and **make you watch**.

So Luke has not been eaten yet! This is good news.

I better placate Nightmare now. I guess he doesn’t like the idea of someone being too attached to an angel. He must really hate the Celestial Realm, just like I heard.

How should I go about that without lying? I have a feeling he would detect any insincerity.

MC: That little doggie is mine, so of course I would come to retrieve him.

Nightmare: Hmm.

He looks unconvinced, but at least he’s listening.

MC: Seizing him was as good as sending me an invitation. How could I possibly turn down such a direct challenge?

Is it my imagination, or does he look less annoyed now? The temperature stopped plummeting, at least.

Nightmare: That does not explain why you would go to such great lengths for him, even gambling your very existence.

MC: You’ve seen into my soul, haven’t you? I have a bit of a problem letting go of things that belong to me. It might seem like I have everything, not lacking for power and affection, but most of what I have can be credited to Lilith’s name and existence. I have very few things I could truly call my own. I can’t help but be attached to those few things.

Nightmare: Hmmm.

MC: I try my best to hide it, but I am quite possessive.

MC: Sometimes that trait of mine...goes out of control.

Nightmare’s face softens.

Nightmare: Happens to the best of us.

The crackling tension dissipates, and the flowers around me revive to their blooming state.

I relax a little.

I think we’d better get off the subject of Luke for a while. It’s too dangerous for Luke. I'll have to find a way to ascertain his condition without asking directly.

MC: Are we really going to keep chatting like this?

I wiggle my bound hands and feet, and glance pointedly at the vine restraints binding me to the ground.

MC: How about you unbind me, so we could have a **proper conversation**? Face to face, on equal ground?

Nightmare: I don’t know what you mean by a **proper conversation** , and I am too afraid to find out.

...Is it okay for an Avatar to casually admit to being afraid of a human like this? I don’t think any of the others ever did that.

Not to mention, isn’t it ridiculous?

MC: Oh, come on. This is your domain. I’m just a powerless human. What damage could I possibly do here?

Nightmare: What damage, indeed.

Nightmare turns to look at the demolished mirror. Almost against my will, my gaze is drawn to the mirror too.

For a long, awkward moment, both of us contemplate the remains of the mirror in silence.

MC: Cough.

Nightmare: This was my finest, most accurate, most precise instrument for soul extraction.

Nightmare: **Was**.

...Should I pretend that I’m not here?

No, it sounds like he's holding a grudge about that. He might end up taking it out on Luke.

I don't think there's anyone else here right now he can complain to. Aside from Luke, it's just Nightmare and me.

Should I provoke Nightmare, to let him vent a little?

MC: I’m no expert, but the mirror looked impressive to me in action. Was it an artifact-grade instrument?

Nightmare: It **was**.

MC: It must have taken quite a **long time** to make it.

Nightmare: It took **over three hundred years** just to gather the ingredients for the forging.

Nightmare: The forging itself took **longer than that**.

MC: Are you the one who forged it?

Nightmare: Yes, I am.

MC: You’re quite good at making things.

Nightmare gives me a sideway glance.

Nightmare: Hmph.

Nightmare: After finishing the instrument, I have submitted the images and the schematics to the Maar’s Association of Artisans.

He pauses, as though debating whether to continue.

I make a sympathetic noise to show I’m listening.

Nightmare: The mirror received glowing reviews. It was graded as a transcendent-ranked artifact, and was granted a title: the Eye of the Abyss.

Nightmare: They included pictures of it into _the Artisan’s Companion_ , _the Collector’s Guide to the Abyss_ , _the Arcanum Infinita Infernale_ , into all the main libraries, historical chronicles, museum records, and even textbooks.

MC: Yes, that’s how I learned about it. From a textbook.

Nightmare turns away from the mirror to stare hard at me. He’s still using Luke’s face, so it comes across more adorable than intimidating.

MC: It sounds like the Eye of the Abyss **was** legendary.

Nightmare: It **was**.

It's not working. He’s still not losing his temper. How is he going to vent if he keeps holding himself back like that?

MC: Too bad it turned out to be so fragile.

Nightmare’s pupils constrict.

Nightmare: **Fragile**?

Finally, I’m getting a reaction.

Nightmare: I’ll have you know that I put special care into building a solid frame capable of withstanding a **direct meteorite strike**.

Nightmare: The material of the glass itself is 99% Prime, the purity exceeding even that of the Dark Observer owned by the Old King, which means it **cannot be harmed by any physical means**.

Nightmare: To think that a transcendent artifact would be casually vandalized by a mere human...! The very one it was supposed to be used on, too!

MC: (sympathetic noise)

Nightmare: I will not be able to wash off this shame for the rest of eternity. When Artisans of Maar hear about this, they will laugh until they weep tears of blood.

MC: (sympathetic noise)

Nightmare: As for my father, I don’t even know WHAT he’s going to say.

His father? That’s interesting. I didn’t know Nightmare had a family.

That’s probably some Abyssian demon, right?

Can I provoke him into telling me more?

MC: Maybe he will say that you got what you deserved for **mistreating your human guest**.

Abruptly, Nightmare falls silent.

W-what is it? Has he realized that I’ve just probed him for information?

I search Nightmare’s face — Luke’s face. He’s silent, just looking at me. As I watch, the expression on his face changes.

His eyes redden and mist over. His long eyelashes tremble. He bites his lip, a perfect picture of a hurt young angel.

MC: **?!**

W-woah, don’t look at me with that face!

Luke-Nightmare kneels down next to me. His impossible angelic eyes stare at me up close.

I twitch, but can’t look away.

What is he planning **now**?

He whispers, his voice trembling with suppressed tears.

Nightmare: Are you...still angry at me?


	15. Probing for Weaknesses

This is bad. This is definitely an emergency.

No matter what, I have to make Nightmare stop using this face against me.

MC: Why would I be angry? I’m not the one who suffered a loss, here.

I allow a dark note of satisfaction to seep into my voice. Nightmare’s eyes narrow.

MC: A **transcendent artifact** , completely **destroyed**. And all for ONE human soul. And you **didn’t even get that soul** , in the end.

I make a sympathetic noise to rub salt into his wounds.

MC: I bet you couldn’t buy a mirror like this one even if you sold a **hundred thousand** human souls.

MC: Tsk, tsk. What a **horrible loss**.

Nightmare’s mouth twists as though he ate something sour, marring his enactment of Luke’s tearful expression. The resulting effect lessens considerably.

I breathe a secret sigh of relief.

MC: **I** should be the one comforting **you**. Here, let me give you a head pat.

Nightmare: ...

MC: Oops, looks like I can’t do it because I’m still bound.

MC: Want a head pat? Free one of my hands.

For a long, long moment Nightmare just stares at me. Then, his unshed tears dry out, and his face smoothes, becoming completely expressionless.

With a sigh, he raises to his feet, and takes a step away from me.

Nightmare: You’re proving to be more of a challenge than I had ever expected.

Nightmare: **Much more**.

His voice is a complex mix of disbelief, frustration, and delight.

MC: I suppose you don’t want me to comfort you. After all, I am the one who caused this disaster in the first place.

I lower my eyes and envision Luke rejecting a head pat from me. In my mind’s eye, I can see him blaming me for this whole mess, being used as a bait by a demon, being held prisoner in a frightening place.

It’s surprisingly easy to imagine. Before long, I feel my eyes welling with tears.

MC: Do you blame me for what happened?

MC: Are you still angry at me?

Nightmare: ...

Nightmare is watching my manipulations with an indescribable, twisted expression that does not really belong on Luke’s face.

Nightmare: Even if I wanted a head pat...

Nightmare: ...I dare not to unbind you. I can’t predict what you’re going to do.

MC: I am a harmless, powerless human. The mirror accident was just a strange fluke. One in a million chance disaster. Lightning does not strike twice.

MC: What danger could I possibly pose to a powerful, skillful archdemon like you?

MC: Besides, I can’t even move from this spot. What could I do with only one hand free?

Nightmare: Who knows how many more heaven-and-hell treasures do you have in your pockets?

I feel blood drain from my face. Cold sweat trickles down my spine.

MC: Haha...I don’t know what you mean?

Nightmare gives me a knowing look. It only makes me sweat even more. He bends down and lifts something up.

It’s my backpack. I’ve completely forgotten about it. I don’t even know when and where I dropped it.

Nightmare: Why do you carry so many bottles of Celestial Essence?

He’s talking about Sunberry Milk, right?

Nightmare: Were you planning to lay a siege to an obsidian fortress with all these supplies, or something?

I guess Sunberry Milk could be used in a somewhat offensive, or at least obstructive manner, like the case with the Eye of the Abyss demonstrated.

There is no way I can mention Luke's name at this juncture.

MC: Sometimes...I feel a little thirsty....

Nightmare’s very un-Luke-like sneer shows me everything he thinks about my weak excuse.

He lowers his arm and lets the backpack slip back to the ground.

Nightmare: All right, then what about the Infernal Mandate?

MC: (blankly) Uh, what?

Nightmare: (impatiently) The talisman you used right at the start. The one with the onyx gem.

MC: What’s wrong with having a little talisman for self-defense?

Nightmare: A **little** talisman, indeed!

It looks like Lucifer took the trouble to give me something quite powerful. It’s too bad the talisman was destroyed....

Nightmare: I know you left the House of Lamentation on a moment's notice, expecting to return shortly. So why are you outfitted like a two-tailed ambassador on a mission?

MC: (with dignity) I don’t know what you mean by two tails, but I always carry a talisman on my person. Even when I go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Because I am a **weak** , **helpless** human living in the Devildom.

MC: This only serves to prove that I am **harmless**. There is **no need** to keep me restrained.

Nightmare: (massages his temple)

MC: By the way, are you feeling okay?

Nightmare: ...Why are you asking?

MC: I hope the backlash from the instrument’s destruction didn’t hurt you **too badly**?

Nightmare: ...Are you showing concern for my health, or probing for my weaknesses?

MC: Why not both?

Nightmare seems to have abandoned all pretense at maintaining Luke’s expressions. He gives me a smile that is positively vicious.

Nightmare: No need to worry. A backlash is caused by a soul’s destruction. In this case, there was none. So I did not suffer **any** damage.

Nightmare: Are you not relieved?

MC: ...


	16. The Ancient Game

For a moment we size each other up, like duelling opponents in between exchanging blows.

Nightmare’s gaze wavers. He takes a breath.

Nightmare: I wasn’t hurt. But I was so, so scared.

Uh, what? Come again?

Nightmare: When you seized the nucleus and the alarm sounded, I thought I was going to lose your soul forever. I was so shocked, I thought my heart would stop.

Nightmare is giving me puppy eyes.

W-why is he doing THAT again? ...More importantly, why is it so effective?

Even though I know what he’s doing, I have no defense against that expression on Luke’s face.

Nightmare: Please, don’t scare me like that again. Don’t risk your precious soul again. **Promise** me.

MC: S-sure.

Wait, WHY did I just say that?

Nightmare smiles at me in triumph.

Nightmare: This form influences you so well, it can be considered a cheat.

I can hear an edge of anger in his voice...

MC: If you dislike using Luke’s form so much, why don’t you use your own?

Nightmare: ...!!

I wait, but there is no response from Nightmare. Only bellflowers are nodding in the gentle breeze.

MC: Why don’t you try it? Who knows, the real you might influence me even better than Luke.

Nightmare: ...So I didn't mishear you just now? You really said that?

Nightmare: You can’t be serious. Even as a clueless human, surely you’ve heard rumors about me?

MC: Which one of the many rumors are you talking about?

Nightmare: The one that says **you will die** if you see my face.

MC: Mere superstitions and hearsay.

Nightmare: Are you sure? You caught a glimpse of me in the mirror. Even though it was nothing but a vague, distorted image... Didn’t you nearly lose your life directly afterwards?

I don’t want to admit it, but he does have a point...

Nightmare smiles darkly at me.

Nightmare: I am Avatar of Ruin. Facing me is facing destruction. A mere human like you won't survive an encounter like that.

Nightmare: ...Not **twice** , anyway.

Nightmare: ...Your survival is REALLY unlikely the second time.

MC: Even if it’s dangerous, I still want to see you.

MC: Show me your face.

Nightmare turns his face away.

Nightmare: Don’t say that. Haven’t you promised me just now not to risk your soul anymore?

MC: And I will keep my promise, even if I was cheated into making it.

MC: However, I never said anything about not risking my life.

MC: It doesn’t matter to you if the vessel is broken, does it? There is no reason for you not to cooperate.

Nightmare: ...Do you perhaps have a death wish?

MC: I have no choice but to take **some** risk. I am out of time.

MC: I know what you’re planning to do.

Nightmare turns to face me. His expression reveals nothing.

Nightmare: Oh? Let’s hear it.

Nightmare: What is it that I'm planning to do?

MC: You told me from the start. You want my soul. It is the special kind you have an interest in.

MC: However, your instrument for extracting souls is broken. Now you have no choice but to acquire my soul the hard way.

MC: The old-fashioned, tried-and-true way: through **conversation**.

Nightmare doesn’t interrupt my conjectures. He listens in silence, his eyes reflecting nothing at all.

MC: You’re confident you can do it. What’s more, you’re confident you can do it quickly. Perhaps in less than an hour.

MC: That’s why these temporary restraints. You feel no need to come up with more permanent arrangements for restraining me.

MC: In an hour or less, you will have my soul in your hands, and only then shall you unbind me.

MC: Or that’s what you think.

Nightmare gives a short laugh.

Nightmare: Why do you think I'm confident that I'll win?

He’s not denying anything I said...

MC: Of course, it’s because you’ve used the Eye of the Abyss to look into my soul.

MC: You’ve seen me, but I haven’t seen you. You know me, but I don’t know anything about you. This gives you an advantage.

MC: I want to know more about you. I want to see you too.

Nightmare: Your line of reasoning makes sense. However, aren’t you forgetting something?

MC: What is it?

Nightmare: I have instruments other than this one.

He gestures towards the smashed mirror.

Nightmare: Many others. And they don’t need a nucleus to work, either. Although those instruments are inferior and imprecise, they will suffice to get the job done.

MC: But you don't like using inferior instruments, do you?

Nightmare: ...I'll do it if I have to. I don't have to enjoy the process.

MC: I bet you haven’t used anything but the Eye of the Abyss in a while. An instrument so accurate, so precise, it feels like an extension of your own will.

Nightmare: ...

MC: And now that you have to go back to using some inferior tool, you'll have to spend some time adjusting. The time you can’t afford to spend. Maybe you're going to need a practice target or two. The kind of disposable target you don't have on hand.

Nightmare: (mutters) You claim not to know me, but I’d say you know too much already.

I’ll take that as a confirmation.

Nightmare: Since you’re so astute, I won’t hide it from you.

Nightmare: Yes, I want your soul.

Nightmare: Yes, I’m planning to acquire it the hard way. Through conversation.

Nightmare: And you’re right. I think there's no way I can lose.

Nightmare laughs. The sound of it sends a chill down my spine.

Nightmare: A battle for a soul is an ancient game that comes naturally to us demons. We all enjoy it, regardless of our origin. And I am quite experienced at it. I haven't lost in a long, long time.

Nightmare: But I’ve never played against a human before.

Nightmare: You’re such a fun opponent. It makes me feel conflicted. On one hand, I want you to submit to me immediately. On the other hand, I never want this game to end.

Well, I’m glad he’s feeling conflicted about it.

MC: If you don’t want it to be over too quickly, then give yourself a handicap.

Nightmare: ...

Nightmare: I don’t know about it...

He's just considered it for a moment. And that's not a no. He's feeling tempted, for sure.

MC: I don’t have the sort of experience you do, and we’re playing on your turf. It’s only fair to give me a little advantage. It won't change the outcome, it will only prolong the game a little. Otherwise the game will be over before you can enjoy it properly.

Nightmare: Hmm...

MC: Isn't it boring to have no challenge? When are you going to have another chance to play against a human again? Go ahead, give yourself a handicap, it will be fine....

Nightmare: Should I...?

He has a thoughtful expression on his face. He’s seriously considering it!

I wait with bated breath for Nightmare to make a decision.

He’s playing with a little sapphire flame in his hand, an apparently unconscious gesture. As I watch, the flame transforms into a pale flower, then into a pulsing dark sphere, then into a large, bright-colored dragonfly. Nightmare opens his hand.

The dragonfly takes flight and disappears into the moonlit sky.

Nightmare clenches his hand into a fist, extinguishing the rest of the sapphire flame.

Nightmare: No. I don’t think so.

MC: Oh, come ON!

Nightmare: But it’s true that I want to prolong the game.

MC: Then — !

Nightmare: All right, then how about this?

Nightmare: I have a name, but it’s a recent one. I’ve told no one about it. There are no records of it anywhere. I am the only one who knows it.

Nightmare: If you can learn my name, I will grant you one wish.

MC: **Deal**.

Nightmare laughs.

Nightmare: That was fast. You know this won’t be easy, but you’re up for it anyway? You’re not going to complain how unfair it is?

MC: If you know it’s not fair, then help me out.

MC: Answer one question of mine.

Nightmare is giving me his twisted smile again.

Nightmare: All right. I'm curious to know what you want to ask.

Nightmare: As long as the question is not about my name, I will answer it.

MC: What event is depicted on that engraving?

Nightmare’s smile fades from his face. He scrutinizes me for several uncomfortable moments. I get a strong feeling that he’s itching to take out one of those inferior, imprecise instruments of his and use it on me right now.

Nightmare: Why ask about that engraving of all things?

Nightmare: Wouldn’t it make more sense to ask me about my greatest weakness? Or maybe about a way out of the Valley of Ruin? Many angels asked me such questions.

Nightmare: Why would you ask about the engraving instead?

MC: Even if I learn your weakness, chances are, I lack the power to put that knowledge to use.

MC: And I already know there’s no way out. You’re the only one who can open the gate.

MC: Besides, I’m curious about the engraving.

I am curious, indeed. When I stood before the Eye of the Abyss, I briefly caught a glimpse of Nightmare’s reflection. That means there is a reverse link. At least while malfunctioning, the mirror works both ways.

And I saw that engraving reflected in the mirror. That could only mean one thing.

There is a significant connection between the engraving and Nightmare's very soul.

MC: What better way is to learn of the artist than to study his creation? And who can tell me about the events that inspired the work of art better than the artist himself?

MC: If nothing else, a work of art is a good conversation topic, don’t you think?

Nightmare: I know I said there’s no way for me to lose, but...

Nightmare: Of all the ways that lead to my victory, why did you have to choose **that** one?

MC: So you’ll do it? You’ll tell me about the engraving?

Nightmare: I told you I would.

With a sour expression, Nightmare waves his hand.

The air shimmers, and the familiar engraving of a grand battle once again appears in view.

Nightmare stands awkwardly to the side, and raises his hand, pointing at a place on the engraving with a projected circle of red light.

He looks a little unused to this. I wonder if he'd never had to present his works to an audience in person.

The circle of red light highlights the golden-winged archangel, who's leading the army of angels.

Nightmare: This is Michael, head of the Department of Judgement.

MC: **Archangel** Michael?

Nightmare: None other. He is the only angel with the pure golden wings.

MC: So that’s what he looks like.

Nightmare: Millennia passed since that battle, yet he hasn’t changed at all.

The circle of light moves to the left, and stops around the horned leader of the army of demons.

Nightmare: And this is...

He pauses, as though searching for the right words to use.

Nightmare: This is Avatar of Ruin.


	17. The Secret of the Engraving

Nightmare speaks as though Avatar of Ruin on the engraving is not him.

That is possible, of course. But something about his hesitation seems odd.

MC: Aren't you Avatar of Ruin?

Nightmare: I am the current one, yes.

MC: So there were others, before you?

Nightmare: Sin is eternal, Avatars can change.

MC: Did Avatar of Ruin ever change?

Nightmare: ...

Nightmare: No. I was appointed Avatar of Ruin each and every time.

Does this mean he’s been reincarnated?

But something stops me from asking that question out loud. Perhaps it’s the increasingly reluctant and evasive way in which he’s been answering so far. I get a feeling that if I ask him directly, he might put an end to my interrogation right there and then.

I consider my next question carefully.

MC: Can you zoom the picture in? I want to see Avatar of Ruin up close.

Nightmare: ...What?

Nightmare: No.

Nightmare: There’s nothing to see. Unless you want to look at armor.

MC: He does have a very closed helmet, I agree. Not even a little bit of his face can be seen. Even his eyes aren’t visible.

Nightmare: You don’t have to sound so disappointed about that.

He seems a little more cheerful now. I wonder if his mood was affected by something that I said.

Wait. I think I get it.

He wants to separate the entity on the engraving from his current self.

So it should be fine as long as I keep talking about the Avatar on the engraving in third person.

MC: Right, his armor seems...intriguing. I want to have a closer look. Zoom in, please?

After a moment’s hesitation, Nightmare adjusts the distance to the engraving. The leader of the demonic army comes into sharp focus. I can see Avatar of Ruin in much better detail now.

I immediately take advantage of that.

MC: Not bad. He’s got a good physique. Quite an imposing figure.

Nightmare: ...Probably just a visual effect created by the bulky armor.

MC: His shoulders are really broad, too.

Nightmare: Shoulder guards, no doubt.

MC: That’s one huge halberd. I bet you can’t swing it around without some real muscle.

MC: Or are you going to say his armor is doing all the swinging, too?

Nightmare's mouth twitches.

Nightmare: Who knows? It might. Artisans of Maar created stranger things than an auto-fighting armor.

MC: Man, look at those beautiful horns. I don’t think I’ve ever seen horns that majestic. They’re really eye-catching.

Nightmare clears his throat.

Nightmare: Let’s... move on to the next subject.

The red circle of light moves away from the horned figure in a somewhat aimless manner.

MC: But the most striking feature is the magnificent tai—

_click._

The entire engraving is plunged into darkness, and another figure comes into focus.

It’s the slender demon wielding a garrote who stands behind Avatar of Ruin.

Nightmare: This is Rael the Traitor.

I feel an intense surge of irritation at the sudden switch.

MC: Hey.

Nightmare: Rael was a fallen angel who became the right hand of Avatar of Ruin and then backstabbed him before the battle of Aspire Ridge began.

MC: Hey. I haven’t finished admiring the tail.

Nightmare starts speaking faster.

Nightmare: Rael the Traitor is more commonly known across the Three Realms as Archangel Raphael.

Wait.

WHAT?

MC: I didn’t know Raphael was ever a fallen angel!

Nightmare: That was a long time ago. And there was the Grand Seal of Secrecy. The event was removed from the Celestial records, even from the Devildom’s official archives. Few people know, nowadays.

I scrutinize Raphael’s demonic form. He has a light frame, spiral horns, and tattered, skeletal wings.

MC: Surprisingly not much to look at. And no tail. Certainly nothing compared to —

Nightmare: Even after this revelation, you’re **still** on that subject?

MC: Cough.

MC: So Rael betrayed Avatar of Ruin? Or was he a Celestial agent from the start?

Nightmare: The former. I have enough ability to filter out agents, at least. No, he reverted his loyalties later. Michael offered him a way back to the Celestial Realm.

MC: What happened to Avatar of Ruin? Was he injured in the attack?

Nightmare raises his eyebrows.

Nightmare: Rael dealt him a mortal blow. Avatar of Ruin died of that attack.

MC: He DIED?

Nightmare: Why do you sound so surprised? Even an Avatar may be struck down. Especially by the one he was foolish enough to trust with guarding his back.

At this point, I suddenly remember something.

MC: Uh, isn’t Raphael that one archangel who got eaten here?

Nightmare: You’re well informed. Or perhaps you’ve been listening to rumours.

MC: You really ate him?

Nightmare: It was easy to lure him in. Perhaps he wanted forgiveness, or perhaps he wanted something...else.

Nightmare smiles. The sight of that smile chills me to the bone.

Nightmare: I didn’t want to even touch him, much less have him become a part of me. So I did not actually devour his flesh. I just fed it to the lower demons.

Nightmare: However, revenge is a sacred duty of an Avatar. So I had to do something personally.

Nightmare: Not to mention, when you process and refine an angel, you receive many valuable ingredients.

Nightmare: If you can get your hands on an archangel, the value of those ingredients becomes truly priceless. The potential power goes up exponentially. With such ingredients, you can make some truly magnificent, artifact-grade instruments and weapons.

Nightmare: Raphael’s soul was returned back to the Celestial Realm after prolonged negotiations.

Nightmare: I made this commemorative engraving out of his bones.

Nightmare: I used his blood to refine a mirror glass with 99% Prime purity.

Nightmare meets my eyes, and something like dark amusement flickers within the depths of his gaze.

Nightmare: And I made a nucleus out of his heart.


	18. First Infernal Paradigm: Vengeance

A nucleus?

There's no way, right...?

MC: Uh...

Nightmare is waiting patiently for me to react.

Calm down, he probably has dozens of those nuclei lying around. It doesn’t have to be THE nucleus.

MC: W-what did you use that particular nucleus for, if I may ask...?

Nightmare: Of course, you may. I used it to power the Eye of the Abyss.

It’s THE nucleus.

I ate an archangel’s heart.

I know I’ve done my fair share of questionable things ever since coming to the Devildom, but devouring the heart of an archangel tops the list, so far.

I don’t even know what the consequences for that might be. The first thing that comes to mind, for some reason, are possible political complications. That’s not your typical, everyday nucleus, refined from crystallized Prime. It has...history. History on a grand scale.

That’s not how a human is supposed to think, right?

I wonder if this is what Solomon meant when he said that he’s not sure whether he’s a human or a demon sometimes.

All things considered, I need to sort out THE nucleus situation right now. Before it’s too late.

MC: Actually, that nucleus of yours... I ate it.

Nightmare: I know.

MC: How?

Nightmare: I saw you eat it, with my own eyes. And...

Nightmare: Your metaphysical signature changed.

MC: My signature?

Nightmare: When I look at your soul, I see it completely wrapped in golden glow.

Nightmare: An archangel’s radiance is shielding you from view.

Nightmare: Those who don’t know you’re a human might even confuse you for Raphael.

MC: ...

I have a sinking feeling at those words.

I don’t want any angelic influences in such close proximity to my soul. What if it affects my soul somehow?

Or changes it?

Or maybe even...takes over completely?

A wave of panic overcomes me. I have a sensation of something terrible closing around me. I struggle to regain control of my emotions, but it’s like trying to control a small boat about to capsize in a storm.

Nightmare is watching me with an unreadable expression in his eyes.

I attempt an ingratiating smile.

MC: Hey, that nucleus thing is quite valuable. Why don't you take it back?

Nightmare tilts his head slightly, neither in agreement nor refusal.

Nightmare: Why would you offer that all of a sudden?

MC: It turns out that that nucleus is your reparation for what happened back during the time of wars. At first I considered it my own trophy, but now...

Nightmare: You feel it’s **unfair** to take my “reparation” away?

Nightmare is smiling now, but I can’t really tell the meaning behind that smile.

MC: Y-yes.

MC: Not only did I smash the mirror, rendering the 99% pure Prime glass useless, but I ate the nucleus as well. That only leaves you with the engraving, which has purely commemorative value. It's not right.

Nightmare’s smile widens.

Nightmare: This is interesting.

...What is? Why is he looking at me like that?

Nightmare: You tell the truth, but not the whole of it. And you slant it to fit your own purpose.

Nightmare: Even among us demons, there are not many who have mastered this technique.

He says it in such a praising tone...

MC: (muttering) ...What’s the point of mastering something that could be seen through so easily?

Nightmare laughs. He seems to be having a great time.

This is really irritating.

Nightmare: I have the ability to tell whether someone is telling the truth. But this ability is rare.

Nightmare: Most demons won’t be able to see through your lies. I am the only one who can see you.

Nightmare: I am the only one you can talk to like this. Face to face, without any obstacles between us.

MC: ...

I hate to admit it, but he’s not wrong...

Nightmare: Tell me why you want to return the nucleus to me.

MC: ...I am afraid it might affect my soul.

Nightmare: I see.

Nightmare scrutinizes me thoughtfully. I squirm, feeling like a butterfly pinned in place by his gaze.

Nightmare: A human soul and an angel’s heart are mutually neutral and non-reactive. It won’t affect you just by being near your soul.

MC: What if it gets **digested**?

Nightmare: ...That won’t happen. You need an angel’s or a demon's body in order to process and refine such a thing. A human body can only contain it.

MC: But it can affect the container itself, can't it? After all, it healed me. So it has **some** influence on me.

Nightmare: ...

MC: I knew it. All right, remove the restraints from me.

Nightmare: ...What do you want to do?

MC: Give the nucleus back to you, of course.

Nightmare: How?

MC: I’m going to barf it up!

Nightmare stares at me with an indescribable expression on his face. Then he gives a loud snort.

Nightmare: Don’t be ridiculous.

Nightmare: An angel’s heart is not a physical thing. It’s a metaphysical formation, both a cauldron and a forge.

Nightmare: You can’t just “barf it up”.

He snorts again.

MC: But I ate it. Can’t the process be...reversed?

For several long moments, Nightmare does not reply. He is thinking, debating something. I can tell, because he started playing with the sapphire flame again, just spinning it around in a tiny vortex.

Abruptly, he extinguishes the flame.

It seems he’s reached a decision.

Nightmare: I didn’t want to tell you that, but...

Nightmare: In order for a human to consume an angel’s heart, the human’s body needs to be destroyed first.

I see. So while my soul was inside the mirror, my body outside was already...

Nightmare: Without the physical vessel as an obstacle, the angel’s heart entered freely into your metaphysical space, and restored the crumbling physical vessel around your soul, while shielding you from immediate existential threat.

Nightmare: You really walked on the razor’s edge of annihilation. But you gained something valuable in return.

Nightmare: As long as you have the nucleus in your possession, and it doesn’t run out of power, it will keep restoring your body.

Nightmare: You won’t be destroyed by any normal means, unless you foolishly fight an angel or a demon. Such as myself.

Nightmare: You have just gained immortality. Aren’t you happy?

I consider his words.

Yes, that is useful. I can immediately see several ways in which I could take advantage of that. If I wasn’t bound, I would already be putting those ways to the test.

And yet...

What’s the point of living forever if you’re not yourself?

MC: What if it takes over my body?

Nightmare snorts.

Nightmare: An angelic possession? That’s something new in metaphysics.

MC: ...

He's laughing at my worst fears...

It's strange, but it makes me feel a bit relieved.

Nightmare: All right, all right.

Nightmare: That’s impossible. A heart is only a formation, a tool. It does not possess a will of its own. It will automatically try to accommodate the vessel, that is all.

That is reassuring, but still...

I will only be able to relax completely once I get that thing **out** of me.

MC: You don’t seem motivated to get it back. Why is that?

Nightmare: There’s no rush. Everything within your vessel will be mine soon.

MC: ...

Well, if you look at it like that...

Nightmare: And I would feel better with an extra layer of protection around you. You have a tendency to be too reckless.

Even if I wanted to be reckless, it’s not like I can do anything with these restraints on me.

MC: Aren’t you worried that I might use Raphael’s power against you?

Nightmare snorts. Loudly.

Is it me, or has he been doing that a lot lately?

Nightmare: You need an angel’s body in order to make use of an angel’s heart.

Nightmare: Well, technically speaking, you need an angel’s **body part**. A complete angelic formation, sanctioned and attached properly.

Nightmare: And you need an archangel’s body part in order to make use of an archangel’s heart.

Nightmare: In case you’re getting ideas — and I know you are! — I must inform you that aside from the heart in your possession right now, I have no other unprocessed archangel’s body parts in my domain at the moment.

MC: ...

Nightmare: I want to make another thing very clear.

Nightmare: The difference in rank between a low-ranked angel and an archangel is too great. If a little angel attempted to use an archangel's heart, it would incinerate him to ashes.

He’s talking about Luke now, I’m sure of it. He’s warning me.

Nightmare: The pain from the incineration would be unbearable, too. He would be wishing for death.

Enough already.

MC: I understand.

Nightmare: Make sure you do.

Nightmare: The nucleus can’t affect your soul, and you can’t use it directly. It’s only good for keeping you alive.

Nightmare: That’s why I don’t mind that you have it.

MC: ...

MC: Then...I know it's too late to ask for permission, but...

I'm not sure what I want to say, but the circumstances behind the nucleus are so drastic that I want to make the transfer of possession official.

Nightmare seems to realize that I want, because he waves his hand.

Nightmare: Keep the nucleus. It is yours, from now and forever.

I don't know about keeping it forever, but this solves the possible political issues, at least.

I give a reluctant nod of agreement.

MC: All right.

Nightmare suddenly smiles at me.

Nightmare: I see you’re still ill at ease. Don’t worry. I don’t want your soul to be contaminated any more than you do.

Nightmare: If there was even a slightest chance that Raphael’s power could corrupt your soul, I would’ve extracted the nucleus out of you already. Removing a formation is as easy as taking off a cloak.

I hate to admit it, but his words are really comforting. I can’t hide my relief.

MC: You should’ve said so from the start!

Nightmare: It was fun to watch you be so desperate to get rid of it.

Nightmare laughs. He seems to be in a great mood.

But now that I calmed down enough to think, another unpleasant thought occurs to me.

Will Luke be able to see the archangel’s signature around me?

How am I going to explain this to him? What am I going to say?

_I ate Raphael’s heart, but I didn’t mean to do it. It was an accident._

Ugh, not even Beel could get away with such an excuse!

_I’m not going to eat yours, I promise._

...Somehow, that sounds even **worse**. It doesn't sound believable even to my own ears. Luke is going to think I’m worse than a demon.

If he hates me, it would make it more difficult for us to cooperate...

Or maybe angels see such things differently?

MC: What would angels think of this?

Nightmare’s eyes narrow.

Uh-oh, I just said that out loud!

That... was a mistake, wasn’t it.

Nightmare: Is **that** what you’re worried about? What **angels** are going to think?

Nightmare: Or maybe just **one** specific angel?

MC: Actually —

Nightmare: Worried that your precious little angel is going to **scorn** you for this?

Well, I can't deny it...

Nightmare’s eyes are frosted over with anger.

Nightmare: No need to worry. You should see things angels are eating and drinking for their ascension ceremonies. They WISH they could have something as sublime as an archangel's heart. Too bad for them that archangels don’t offer themselves for consumption often.

I’m learning more about angels than I ever wanted to know.

Still, even though I managed to rile him up again, I’m glad he told me that.

MC: Then how do **you** feel about this?

Nightmare: About you eating my valuable nucleus?

I don’t dare to say anything. I managed to distract him slightly, but he still seems on edge.

Nightmare: Or about you eating Raphael’s heart?

I can tell he has pretty mixed feelings about this...

Nightmare: Or perhaps... you wonder how I feel about you looking like Raphael?

Judging by his tone, the last subject seems the safest.

MC: Right, you said you can see his signature around me?

Nightmare: An archangel’s signature looks brighter than that of a human. Like the sun next to a candle. If you don’t know what you’re looking for, you might really be confused.

MC: Do we really look alike?

Nightmare: I suppose. Looking at the metaphysical signature only, the resemblance should be nearly identical.

He sounds pretty indifferent about that.

MC: Should be? Wouldn’t you know for sure...?

Nightmare: I only saw Raphael as an archangel once. Just before I took my revenge on him. I don’t recall all the details of his radiance.

Nightmare: He looked different as Rael. An angel, and a fallen one besides, looks completely different from an archangel.

Nightmare is sneering. He opens his hand, but then closes it again without lighting the sapphire flame.

Nightmare: I was the one who helped Rael to gain his status as a demon in the Devildom.

MC: !

Nightmare: Without me, he would’ve still been lying at the bottom of the Abyss, where he’d been cast down by his Father, his wings incinerated, unable to move.

Nightmare: As thanks for my help, he murdered me.

He’s talking about that time in first person now. He hasn’t done that before. I can’t help but be drawn in.

Nightmare: Michael promised Rael forgiveness and absolution in return for killing me. If murder is successful, Rael would be able to get his wings back. He would be able to start over again from the middle rank of angelic hierarchy. It would be like he’d never left. Michael swore it as Lord’s Messenger.

Nightmare: And Rael accepted his offer.

Nightmare: I made the mistake of lowering my guard around him, but he is at fault too. And while I was dead, he returned to the Celestial Realm, back into the embrace of his loving family.

MC: ...

Nightmare: It took me centuries to **return** and become Avatar once again.

Nightmare: While I was still struggling to gain a foothold in the Abyss, Raphael had his status restored, and all accounts of his misdeeds were wiped from all records. His absolution had been decreed.

Nightmare: It was like nothing had ever happened.

MC: ...

Nightmare: No one in the Three Realms calls him a double traitor, a murderer, a war criminal. They even made him an archangel eventually. He is virtue personified.

Nightmare: He got everything he wanted, everything he could ever dream of.

Nightmare: **And I am the one who paid the price**.

Nightmare: Tell me, is this fair?

No. Of course it’s not fair.

Being murdered by someone you helped. And then the world just goes on as usual. Happy ending for everyone involved. Nobody remembers what he’s done.

An unfair world like that, doesn’t it make you feel like smashing it to pieces?

But I don’t speak the words out loud. A year-long habit of silence is holding my throat in an iron grip.

Nightmare: You understand how I feel, don’t you?

Yes. Of course I do.

After all, I have also been murdered once by someone I helped. I have gone through a similar experience.

Only Nightmare had it even worse than I did. After all, centuries passed before he could return.

Nightmare: We must be good to those who are good to us. We must be evil to those who are evil to us.

Nightmare: Doing otherwise devalues both evil and good.

Nightmare: If the wicked ones are never punished for their misdeeds, they will never change, but only grow worse, and cause more widespread damage.

MC: ...

MC: (That makes a lot of sense.)

Nightmare: When Heaven fails to uphold the law, it’s Our turn to balance the accounts.

Nightmare: Do you think I’ve done the right thing by taking my vengeance?

I speak then, and my voice doesn’t sound like my own.

MC: **Yes. Vengeance is fair.**

Nightmare smiles in relief, and reaches out his hand. But before his hand touches mine, he hesitates.

Nightmare: You want to know how I feel about you eating the nucleus?

Nightmare: I am **overjoyed**.

Nightmare: Raphael **deserves** to be eaten by a human. That was even more satisfying than feeding him to the lower demons. And the human in question doesn't even **want** his heart, and wants nothing more than to be rid of it, as if it's some useless **garbage**. That's the best thing that happened to me in the last century. That was **hilarious**.

Nightmare draws back his hand.

Nightmare: You can tell **that** to Luke if he questions you.

MC: ...

MC: (Luke...)

Luke’s name brings me back to my senses.


	19. A Secret Only I Don’t Know

What happened just now?

I completely lost control over conversation. I was swept away.

I know I lost some ground. Something has...changed. But I don’t know when or how it happened. Or how to prevent it from happening again.

I only know that I’m still in possession of my soul.

Nightmare’s fathomless gaze meets mine directly.

Nightmare: Have I answered your question?

That’s right...I asked him how he felt about the eaten nucleus.

MC: Yes, you have.

Nightmare: Do you still want to know more about me?

There is a dark challenge in his voice.

Nightmare: Would you like me to tell you how I **feel** , or what I **think**?

I am well aware of how dangerous that is.

However, I have no choice but to push forward regardless. Even if I take physical or metaphysical damage in the process, I must win this game.

There is more at stake than my own soul.

MC: Yes. I want to know everything about you.

Nightmare: Really.

Nightmare studies me contemplatively, as though I'm a rare specimen on display.

Nightmare: You're nothing if not persistent. As a reward for your reckless drive and determination, I will let you choose the next topic for our conversation as well.

I was waiting for him to say that.

MC: Tell me what happened on Aspire Ridge after Avatar of Ruin was killed. How did the battle go without him?

Nightmare: ...

Nightmare: **Of course** you would ask me the worst possible question.

Nightmare holds up his hand. The sapphire flame envelops his hand, forming a clawed glove, which changes into a jagged fan, then into a centipede that crawls between his fingers.

All of those look like weapons. Or rather, instruments.

I watch the transformations uneasily. I only hope he won’t lose control again.

Nightmare: I don’t have to answer this question. Maybe I should be the one to choose the topic this time.

He is worried about his control too. That’s not a good sign.

But I don’t want to give up on this topic so easily. I still remember when I saw the fall of Avatar of Ruin in that vision. I remember the terrible sensation of an upcoming disaster. I have a feeling that what happened next is important.

I decide to probe carefully.

MC: Is that something a human shouldn’t know?

Nightmare: There is no **a** human. There is only **you**.

The flame in his hand transforms into a net of fine green threads. Just looking at those gives me a chill. The power capable of ensnaring my soul...

I’ll just try one last time.

MC: Is what happened there a secret?

Nightmare: A secret? No. The entire Devildom knows.

The flame, an extension of his fingers, changes into blades, forming claws.

But I’m only vaguely aware of that transformation.

The entire Devildom knows?

A dark wave surges at the edge of my consciousness.

Something just occurred to me. I bet if I **really** tried, I could get rid of those restraints for a second. Sure, he’ll immobilize me again, and sure, he might retaliate, and I might even have to be resurrected again, but I’d still have enough time to teach him a **lesson**.

A lesson he won’t soon forget.

Before I can finish that thought, I find those bladed claws at my throat.

Nightmare: **Don’t move**.

I freeze.

Dammit, has he seen through my intentions?

And so quickly?

I didn't even see him move.

Nightmare: **Calm down**.

I don’t want to hear that from someone who’s just grown blades.

I am silent, squinting warily at his long claws. They look razor-sharp. Glowing with a faint green light, they resemble those he used while extracting my soul in the mirror.

Nightmare: What has upset you?

MC: ...

Is that a serious question?

I could write him a list about it, but then I’d still be writing it come morning.

MC: ...Too many things to mention.

Nightmare: What’s bothering you right now?

That’s an easy one.

MC: Your claws at my throat.

Nightmare withdraws his hand. The bladed claws dissolve into wisps of smoke, which draw back into his hand.

Nightmare: What else?

I make no reply. The dark wave that overcame me a moment ago has already receded, leaving me slightly confused.

If I told him the restraints are bothering me, would he remove those?

Somehow, I don’t think so.

Nightmare: Are you upset because I wouldn’t answer your question?

MC: ...

Well, since he brought this up on his own...

MC: If it’s not a secret, then why can’t I know?

MC: And why does **everyone** know except **me**?

Nightmare: ...You weren’t made out of Prime, so you don’t have access to our ancestral memory.

Oh, so this is because I wasn’t born here?

I barely stop myself from using the words “fallen angels”. Don’t tell me their Father was working with Infernal Prime when he made them.

MC: Are you telling me the RAD Council doesn’t know what happened during that battle?

I can hear incredulity in my own voice.

Nightmare: ...

Nightmare: Those who are born into the Devildom by the King’s decree are given a brief access to the royal archive. How they use that access is up to them.

What a roundabout way of saying “they know, and the King himself approves.”

MC: What about **angels**? Do they know?

Nightmare: ...

I try to meet his eyes, but he’s avoiding my gaze.

Nightmare: Angels have their own restricted archives, outside of the Devildom’s jurisdiction. Those who were chosen to travel to the Devildom as exchange students are unlikely to be...uninformed.

Even angels know?

MC: ...

That only leaves Solomon and me. And I might be wrong, but I’m sure Solomon knows everything there is to know about the Three Realms.

Which really only leaves me.

MC: **Uninformed**.

Nightmare: ...

Nightmare seems tense. Is he worried about my reaction? He's watching me so closely. I am the captive here, not him. What's there to worry about?

Amusement battles with outrage within me.

A year has passed, yet I am no closer to truly understanding the Devildom than I was at the start.

With some effort, I suppress another urge to test the restraints. I don’t want to be threatened with glowing claws again.

MC: We were all here for a year together, yet a human knows less than the angels. This exchange program was a total failure. This time, Diavolo messed up.

Nightmare sighs, a mix of relief and irritation.

Nightmare: It’s my duty to compensate for his shortcomings.

MC: ?

Nightmare: I’ll answer your question.

Nightmare: I’ll tell you what happened on the battlefield of Aspire Ridge.


	20. The Prince of the Devildom

Nightmare: When Avatar of Ruin fell, the battlefield was plunged into chaos. Rael used his ability to cross over to the army of angels, where their archers shielded him from retaliation. And on our side, they started shouting about doppelgangers.

Nightmare: Doppelgangers are entities like me, demons and angels capable of stealing another’s face and identity. A single doppelganger agent who manages to infiltrate high ranks is capable of doing untold damage in the long term.

Nightmare: I could detect doppelgangers and disguised angels with a single glance. As long as I was there, they posed no threat. My presence alone reassured demons. But I was no longer there.

MC: Demons thought Rael was a doppelganger?

Nightmare: It made more sense to them than a demon who betrayed his own leader.

Nightmare: As doubt started, it began to spread. Demons could no longer trust anyone they saw. Before long, they would have started fighting each other, and then the army of angels would’ve made its move. Amidst the chaos, angels would’ve advanced rapidly.

Nightmare: Everything would have happened the way Michael planned it.

Nightmare: However...

Nightmare: At that moment, my core was recalled, and the Demon King learned of my death.

Nightmare is silent for a while, flames dancing around his arms in a chaotic manner.

MC: The Demon King must have been very unhappy to lose you.

Nightmare nods almost imperceptibly.

Nightmare: He was.

Nightmare: In fact, he was so enraged that he lost control of his Avatar.

Oh? The Demon King has an Avatar, too? I thought he was only a ruler of demons.

MC: What is the Demon King’s Avatar?

Nightmare: He is the Destroyer of Worlds, Avatar of Disaster.

MC: ...

Losing control of something like that...doesn’t sound good at all.

Nightmare: The King’s power does not differentiate between angels and demons. That’s why he’d never used it. Until that day.

Nightmare: Aspire Ridge was the first to bear the King’s wrath. With a single strike, Avatar of Disaster leveled the mountains and turned the mountain range into a flat valley.

Nightmare: Most lower demons were pulverized. The higher ones were destroyed and buried in the wreckage, their cores fractured or shattered completely, with little hope for reincarnation. The whole place became a mass grave.

Nightmare: Michael barely escaped with his life. Under the shadow of his wings, he brought out a small portion of his army, including Rael. This is the power that resists Disaster, the power of an archangel.

Nightmare: Aspire Ridge was no more. The aftershocks traveled across the Three Realms. But that did nothing to quell the King’s wrath.

Nightmare: I could have stopped him. I’ve done that before. But I was no longer there.

Nightmare: The King made the Pronouncement of the End. He said he will wipe all three worlds from existence. Then everyone and everything can start over from nothing.

Nightmare: Just like Avatar of Ruin would have to start over from nothing.

Nightmare: It would only be fair, the King said.

Nightmare: This way, they’ll all share the same fate as his only son.

MC: ...

Nightmare: ...

MC: You are... the Demon King’s **only son**?

What about Diavolo?

Nightmare: I **was**.

MC: ...

Nightmare: Faced with the imminent annihilation, the Celestial Realm proposed something unprecedented: an eternal peace treaty with the Devildom.

Nightmare: In the end, the King agreed.

Nightmare: The peace treaty was drawn at the Elysium-Maar Convention, effective forever, never to be withdrawn. The division of power between the Celestial Realm and the Devildom was decided then.

Nightmare: Everything was decided then. And it will never change, not while heaven and hell still stand on the opposite sides of the scales.

Nightmare: The division of territories, of the Sources, all the laws and agreements, even the reincarnation rules, everything was decided then.

Nightmare: **And I was not there**.

MC: ...

Nightmare: Someone **else** was there instead of me.

MC: ...Diavolo, right?

Nightmare flashes me a quick smile.

Nightmare: That’s right.

Nightmare: While I was still dead, the King’s second son was born.

Nightmare: A hasty decision, many said. Not much time passed. The heir’s core isn’t cold yet.

Nightmare: But it was an emergency. The King needed someone for the Convention. The King, the King's father, and the King's heir have to sign the treaty together. The present, the past, and the future, personified.

Nightmare: The King’s father could be present as a summoned ghost, but the King’s heir was in the middle of his reincarnation and was not available. A replacement was called for.

Nightmare: Centuries passed before I became available again. Not really much time by a demon’s standards. But by that time, the treaty was long over.

Nightmare: I returned, and found that the world has changed.

Nightmare: Where used to be war, there was now peace. Rael the Traitor became Raphael the Archangel. Aspire Ridge became the Valley of Ruin. The Three Realms had new laws, governed by the Elysium-Maar convention. And the Devildom had a new Prince.

Nightmare: I’ve been replaced.

MC: ...

Nightmare: All of my skills were related to battle. Now all of them were rendered useless. Now my very existence threatened Diavolo’s succession, his status as the heir, and the validity of the peace treaty signed with his name. And even if the treaty were to be resigned and redrawn under my name, what good would I be at peace meets and negotiations? None of the Celestial leaders wanted to see my face.

Nightmare: So the King my Father concealed my existence with the Royal Decree of Silence. No one was to speak about me. It became like I never existed in the first place.

MC: ...

Nightmare: They still whisper about me in the Abyss. My existence is an open secret. But even in their rumors, they don’t speak of who I truly am.

Nightmare: I used to be Prince, a war leader, a hope of demons. Now I am a relic of the past, living in the graveyard. I am less than a ghost. I am nothing.

MC: ...!

Nightmare: There is no future for a pawn. I was always disposable. Once a tool serves its purpose, it will be discarded.

MC: **!!!**

Nightmare’s entire figure is engulfed in sapphire flame. He reaches out and takes my restrained hand in his blazing one.

Nightmare: Can you see me now?

Nightmare: Can you feel the affinity between us?

Nightmare: In the whole Three Realms, you’re the only one who knows how I feel.

Nightmare: You’re the only one who can understand me.


	21. Second Infernal Paradigm: Hatred

I look up at Nightmare’s blazing shape. Engulfed in burning sapphire darkness, he no longer resembles Luke. His form, transcendent and eternal, does not resemble anything I’ve ever seen.

His touch is searing my hand.

Nightmare: In the whole Three Realms, there is no one else like you. I’ve been searching for you for a very long time. I began to doubt that you even existed.

Nightmare: At long last, I have found you. Here you are, right in front of me.

Nightmare’s grip on my hand tightens.

Nightmare: Tell me, how do I restrain myself?

MC: ...

As expected, he’s lost control again. He’s clearly considering incinerating my vessel. Even with the nucleus to protect me, that won’t end well.

But right now, he’s still talking to me, even asking for my help. He's conflicted. Maybe he's still willing to listen.

MC: Are you that eager to interrupt our conversation?

Nightmare tilts his head.

MC: Once you extract my soul, we’ll never be able to talk with each other like this again. We’ll never be able to do anything else together, either.

MC: Is that what you want?

Nightmare: ...

I’m not sure if my words are getting through to him. But his pupils are focused on me, at least.

MC: Don’t tell me you want this game of ours to be over so quickly?

Nightmare: ...

His grip tightens. I think I’m getting a response. But whether it’s a response to my words, or just to my voice, I cannot tell.

I should keep talking, even if it’s nonsense. As long as I manage to keep his attention, he would be able to use this delay to regain control.

At least that’s how it works with Satan.

MC: Actually...

I lower my voice to a whisper, and he leans closer unconsciously.

MC: ...I was really hoping to challenge you to a duel. I wanted to see the legendary Juggernaut in action myself.

For a heartbeat, Nightmare is staring at me in silence.

Abruptly, he releases my hand, and retreats back, out of reach.

It seems the crisis has been averted, for now.

With a secret sigh of relief, I twist my hand experimentally. It's still attached. No damage.

Nightmare: Don’t try to seduce me. It won’t work.

Excuse me, WHAT?

I think I just heard something strange. For the sake of my sanity, I’m going to pretend I heard nothing.

Nightmare: I’m immune to charming abilities, so don’t waste your time.

...What is he even talking about? I don’t have any charming abilities. Does he think I’m Asmo?

Nightmare: Whatever amulet you’re using isn’t effective either.

MC: (...If you think it’s so ineffective, then what makes you think I’m using one?)

Also, why are we still on that subject...? What exactly did I say that caused this?

I try to steer the conversation into a more reasonable territory.

MC: What’s the rush with acquiring my soul anyway? A few centuries is nothing for a demon. Can’t you wait for a century or so?

With a sudden movement, Nightmare withdraws all the flame at once and transforms into Luke’s form again.

Luke’s shape throws up his hands.

Nightmare: What century? I only have time until morning!

MC: ...Why do you say that?

He can’t possibly know, right...?

Nightmare pins me with his heavy gaze.

Nightmare: **I know you are going back.**

MC: **!!!**

He means "back to the human realm"...right?

MC: ...The exchange program is over. Of course I’m going back.

Nightmare: You don't want to stay here?

MC: I’m here on Diavolo’s invitation. If he wants me to go back, I will.

Nightmare: What if I wanted you to stay?

MC: ...Then you should go through the official channels and invite me.

Nightmare: **Maybe I will**.

MC: ...?!

Nightmare: What’s the matter? You don’t look too happy.

Nightmare: Didn’t you say Diavolo **invited** you? Or did he simply **make you stay**?

Nightmare: Then there’s no harm if I **do the same** , right?

MC: That’s...

Nightmare: What’s wrong?

MC: ...

Nightmare: Enough evasion. Tell me the truth.

Nightmare: You want to leave, don’t you?

MC: ...

Nightmare: Say it. I am the only one here. No one else will hear your words.

Nightmare: You can’t wait to leave. Isn’t that right?

MC: Th...

MC: That’s right.

MC: **I can’t wait to leave**.

MC: I’ve been counting down days — no, hours. Waiting for this to end.

MC: **I can’t stand another minute in this timeline**.

MC: My task is not complete yet. Actually, it was a total failure. I haven’t found the answer, and I missed the window of opportunity.

MC: But no matter.

MC: I will complete it, no matter how many tries it takes me. Even if I have to start over and over again.

MC: A year. A century. An millennium. I don’t care how long it takes.

MC: And once I complete it successfully, **I am definitely going back**.

MC: They are still waiting for me, on the other side. I can’t keep them waiting forever.

Nightmare: **Let them wait forever**.

Nightmare: **You are never going back**.

MC: **!!**

Nightmare is holding up his hands. Above his left hand hovers an enormous golden chain, rotating clockwise like a spiral. Above his right hand hovers an infinitely long black chain, rotating counter-clockwise.

He speaks, and his voice sounds like a thousand bells. My ears are ringing. My mind is blank. My head is filled with the sound. Despite everything, I try to make out the words.

**...Royal Claim...**

**...Vengeance...**

**...Hatred...**

Nightmare brings down his hands, and both chains entwine around me.

Something dark has wrapped around my heart, squeezing it.

For a moment, I think my heart would be crushed.

Abruptly, the sensation is over.

MC: ...

MC: ...??

Did I imagine the whole thing?

Nightmare is studying me. Is it me, or does he look concerned?

What...just happened?

But before I can ask the question, Nightmare speaks first.

Nightmare: There is no point going back to them.

Nightmare: **You hate them**.

MC: I — I don’t.

Nightmare laughs, but he doesn’t look amused.

Nightmare: Remember, I’ve seen into your soul. I know exactly how you feel.

Nightmare: Do you want to know what I’ve seen?

MC: No, I don’t want to know!

Nightmare: You believe Sloth is treating you like a vessel for his sister, and lying to your face about it. His half-baked lies are insulting you. You wish he’d at least put more effort into his act.

MC: I’m...not...

Nightmare: You judge Gluttony for his single-minded devotion to his family at the cost of everything else. Sometimes you wonder if he would permit any atrocity just to keep his twin brother happy.

MC: Beel...isn’t...

Nightmare: You resent Pride for overriding your identity with a single word. You blame him for the fact that everyone is treating you as Lilith’s substitute.

MC: ...

Nightmare: You resent everyone else for going along with Lilith’s substitute act, and for dismissing your murder so quickly. They’re all complicit in erasing you from existence.

MC: It’s **not real**. None of this is real. This is just a long nightmare. Once I return, things will go back to normal. Everyone will be...

Nightmare: ...As they used to be?

Nightmare: Are you sure about that?

MC: **!!**

Nightmare: You have your doubts about that...don’t you?

MC: ...

Nightmare: If this is nightmare, there is no waking up from it.

Nightmare: And even if things go back to normal... Even if you return back to the world that makes sense...

Nightmare: What are you going to do about your **hatred**?

My heart feels so heavy...

MC: What...do you mean by that?

Nightmare: You’ve been treated as a medium, a conduit for their affection for their sister. They’ve given you plenty of love, but none of it was meant for you. It rendered you immune to affection. Every world of love they speak to you while addressing her, negates you. Even now, hearing the words “I love you”...

My hands spasm, and Nightmare laughs.

Nightmare: ...It provokes within you such an intense surge of hatred, your heart is incandescent with cold rage.

Nightmare is smiling appreciatively.

Nightmare: I don’t envy any demon foolish enough to try and capture your soul by making you fall in love with him. You’d make such a short work of him, it’d be hilarious. Due to your experiences, you have become quite a difficult case.

MC: Why are you telling me all of this?

Nightmare: Because I want to help you.

MC: Help me. How?

Nightmare: No need to sound so skeptical. I told you, I’m a doppelganger. I’ve had to assume another’s identity often. Naturally, I have developed many methods to help me remain myself.

He really managed to get my attention with THAT. I listen with great interest.

MC: What methods?

Nightmare: There are quite many. But out of all of them, there is a single method particularly suitable for you.

Nightmare: **Make them hate you**.

MC: ...?!

Wait. That. That doesn’t make sense, but makes sense at the same time.

I think I know what he’s talking about.

Yes, this is it.

This is the answer!

Nightmare is smiling at me.

Nightmare: You understand, right?

Nightmare: **They can never hate their sister**.

Nightmare: Whatever hatred they give you, whatever hatred you earn, it will be meant for **you,** and **you only**.

Nightmare: Their hatred itself would be proof of your very existence.

Nightmare: A **real proof** , not just some empty words.

Nightmare: You know what they say...

Nightmare: It is better to be hated for what you are than to be loved for what you are not.

That's a genius idea.

I smile back at Nightmare.

MC: **Yes. I want to be hated.**


	22. The Invisible Shield

As soon as I speak those words, my heart feels lighter.

It is as though a crushing weight is lifted from my heart. I can see my own relief reflected in Nightmare’s eyes.

Nightmare: Thank the Abyss and all the dead deities for that.

MC: But...

Nightmare’s hand jerks.

Nightmare: What NOW?

MC: Speaking of methods for maintaining one’s identity...I feel like I have one such method myself.

MC: I think I’ve been using that method for a while. Maybe for the entire last year.

MC: Maybe I’m still using it, even now.

MC: I just can’t remember what it is.

MC: Strange, isn’t it?

Nightmare: ...

MC: Are you suppressing my memory again?

There is an expression of dark contemplation on Nightmare’s face. He has evoked his flame, whose shape is changing rapidly between delicate flowers and what looks like sinister instruments for torture.

Nightmare: I am not suppressing your memory. Someone else has done that.

MC: Someone **else**? Do I have hidden enemies?

Nightmare: It wasn’t done by an enemy. No, this is the work of a friend.

MC: How could erasing my memory be a friendly act?

Nightmare: It’s simple. If you're not aware of it, then I won't know about it either.

Nightmare: What I don’t know about, I can’t destroy.

Nightmare: I've met angels who used such methods against me in the ancient game, in order to slow down my progress. It's a delaying tactic that can buy a few hours.

MC: But if I can’t remember it, I can’t use it. What’s the point of having it?

Nightmare: Even if you're not aware of it, submerged into a subconsciousness, a memory still has some passive power. Of course, it’s not as powerful as a conscious memory. But it's enough to give you an extra protection.

Nightmare: This must be how you’ve been resisting my influence so far. Each time I think I’m finally making progress, THIS happens. It’s like I run into a barrier.

Nightmare: I think the method you speak about is **the shield**.

MC: What sort of shield?

Nightmare: A protective shield around your soul.

Nightmare: There are probably two entities involved in this. One is responsible for the shield, and the other is responsible for hiding it. The shield has been here for months, but the memory of it has only recently been suppressed.

Nightmare: So I’m going to uncover that shield, once and for all.

Nightmare: I’m going to bring that memory as close as I can to the surface.

Nightmare: Your memory should partially return. Try and concentrate on remembering the shield.

Nightmare: Forcibly invoking suppressed memories is dangerous, so I won’t be doing it all the way. I will try to be as precise as I can. This will work better if you’re not resisting.

Nightmare: Do I have your cooperation in this?

I consider his words.

If I can remember the shield, I can fully activate it, right? He will also find out about it, but that’s the risk I’ll have to take.

We’ll both learn of the shield. I’ll just have to use it before he can find a way to destroy it.

MC: Ready when you are.

Nightmare: Here goes.

Nightmare lifts his hands, palms up. I am surrounded by a circle of light. Motes of light are moving upwards. It feels strange, like lying in a pool of vacuum.

Nightmare: Focus. Concentrate on the shield.

I close my eyes.

The shield. The method I’ve been using to help me remain myself. What is it?

Almost immediately, I hear a voice in the depths of my memories.

An inhuman, ageless voice is wrapped around my soul.

It’s like a constant refrain, or an incantation. It’s so quiet, but powerful, and despite the strict quality of it, it is comforting. The same words are repeated over and over again.

I try to make out the words.

_...you are..._

_...you have..._

_...is proof..._

_...I am..._

I feel strength surging into me, even with those broken words. I feel like I have nothing to fear, nothing to worry about. I can do anything, face anything, because —

The voice cuts off. The circle of light disappears.

I open my eyes to see Beel frowning down at me.

MC: Ugh?

Beelzebub: I think I’ve been sabotaging myself by using that form all this time.

Nightmare?

His abrupt form switch has taken me by surprise.

MC: What do you mean? What have you found? Whose voice is that?

Nightmare does not reply. He contemplates me in silence. There is a fine crease between his brows. It’s strange to see Beel with an air about him that’s so...scholarly.

Nightmare: The shield itself has no clear signature, so it's difficult to say with certainty who's responsible for it.

Nightmare: But I’ve found out the one responsible for suppressing your memory.

MC: REALLY? Who IS it?

Nightmare: The signature is a dead giveaway. I’d recognize it blindfolded. This is the work of Salvation.

Nightmare: There is only one angel from the Department of Salvation in the Devildom right now.

Nightmare: Simeon.

 **Simeon** suppressed my memory?

It’s hard to express my surprise and disbelief in mere words. Simeon has never shown any interest in my well-being one way or another. For him to actively interfere in my memory, it’s unprecedented. I can’t help but find that hard to believe.

MC: Are you **absolutely** sure about this?

Nightmare: The specific person doesn't really matter. But I am absolutely sure this was done by an angel.

Nightmare: And since this is a tandem work of two angels, that leaves only one candidate for the shield itself.

MC: (GULP)

MC: Y-y-yeah! M-maybe the shield is Lilith's?

Nightmare gives a short, mocking laugh.

Nightmare: **That's a good one**.

MC: (CRINGE)

Nightmare: You think **fast** under pressure.

That sounds more like an accusation than a praise.

Nightmare: Don't be **ridiculous**. That voice has encircled your soul many, many times. You've been willingly listening to it, even eagerly. You **want** to hear it. You **invite** it in. That's how it created a permanent shield.

Nightmare: Even under threat of direct annihilation, you wouldn't let Lilith anywhere near your soul. You wouldn't let **any** angel that close.

Nightmare: Except **that** one.

I don’t have to ask him who **that** one is. I can see his suspicion in his sudden change of form.

Nightmare: What is your relationship with Luke?

All alarms go off in my mind at once. He’s never shown any affection for Luke from the start, but now he no longer even calls him “little angel”.

I must distract him, no matter what.

MC: W-what do you think of Diavolo?

Nightmare: ...What?

UGH, I know. You don’t have to look at me like that. This isn’t what one would call a graceful change of subject. I just blurted out the first thing that came to my mind.

But now I have no choice but to push forward regardless.

MC: I am really curious about that.

Completely true, by the way.

MC: You are his older brother. Don’t you have ANY affinity with him? What do you think of his ruling style? About him as a person? What does he think of you?

MC: Tell me all about your relationship with Diavolo, and I’ll tell you all about my relationship with Luke.

Nightmare: ...

Nightmare: (SIGH)

Nightmare: **Fine**.


	23. Brothers

Nightmare: This won’t take long.

Nightmare: Diavolo and I don’t have a relationship.

Nightmare: We’ve never even met.

Well, this was very short indeed. I was hoping it would take longer...

MC: Doesn’t he know that he has a brother?

Nightmare: The Royal Decree of Silence is still in effect. Even my Father can’t tell Diavolo about me. If they speak of me to each other, they won't acknowledge me as family. They would refer to me as Avatar of Ruin, a relic of the past.

MC: But Diavolo knows you're family anyway. He has the ancestral memory, after all. He listens to the rumors. If nothing else, he must have read the royal archive.

Nightmare: ...

MC: Not to mention, he has an inquisitive nature, and he’s even more persistent than I am in getting what he wants.

Nightmare: I’ve never met anyone more inquisitive and persistent than you are.

MC: That’s because you haven’t met Diavolo yet.

MC: He knows you're his brother. Right?

Nightmare: ...Do you **have** to make me say something so **obvious**?

Nightmare: Of COURSE he knows.

MC: I bet he’s dying to meet you and to talk to you.

Nightmare does not respond. He’s scowling.

MC: I bet he’s already tried contacting you countless times.

No response. Nightmare’s scowl deepens.

MC: I bet they had to drag him kicking and screaming away from your door. Countless times.

Nightmare: ...If you know that much already, then why are you questioning me?

Don’t tell me I was correct on all counts? Even the last one?

Nightmare: It doesn’t matter how many times he asks.

Nightmare: I will never agree to meet him.

MC: Do you hate him for replacing you?

Silence. The flame in Nightmare’s hand has formed a dark spiked ball. Among the spikes, a delicate sprout is twining, a strange contrast.

MC: If you’re unsure how you feel about him, why not meet him and have a conversation?

MC: Aren’t you curious what he’s like in person?

Nightmare: Even if we were to meet... What would we talk about? We have nothing in common.

Nightmare: I was made for combat. He was made for administration.

Nightmare: My ability is infiltration. His is negotiation.

Nightmare: He lives in the castle. I live in the graveyard.

Nightmare: He is making the future. I am buried with the past.

Nightmare: There is nothing in common. There is no affinity between us. He will never be able to understand me.

MC: What if he **wants** to understand you?

Nightmare: Even if he wants to, he **can’t**.

MC: There must be some way for you to connect. Surely you have already considered it?

Nightmare: Yes, I suppose I have. Countless times.

Nightmare: I suppose if he **really** wanted to understand me, I might be inclined to give him an opportunity to do so.

Nightmare: The key to mutual understanding lies in similar experiences.

Nightmare: How should I go about giving that to him?

Uh, I have a bad feeling about this...

Nightmare: Let’s see. Shall I give him a taste of what it's like to lose an army under his command?

MC: ...

Nightmare: But since he’s not a general, perhaps something different?

Nightmare: How about having the person he trusts the most stab him in the back?

Nightmare: I **could** arrange that.

MC: ...

Nightmare: I have the ability to warp someone’s heart, after all. It’s a royal gift, which I inherited from my Father as the firstborn.

Warp someone’s heart? Sounds like a cheat ability. I hope he’s not going to use it on me...

Nightmare: Or perhaps something simpler?

Nightmare: Why don’t I send him on a cycle of reincarnation for a few hundred years?

Nightmare: And once he returns, I’ll make sure the world he used to know is no more.

MC: ...

Nightmare: Is this the outcome you want?

MC: No. I don’t want that to happen.

Nightmare: Nobody wants that to happen. Including me.

Nightmare: You understand now, don’t you?

Nightmare: I am Ruin. I am fated to destroy everyone who sees me.

Nightmare: If I start a conversation with Diavolo, it will end in his death.

Nightmare: That is why, no matter how many times he asks, I will never agree to meet him.

Nightmare pins me with a heavy gaze.

Nightmare: That is why, if you had any thoughts of him coming to your rescue, give up such hopes.

Nightmare: I won’t open the gates for him. And he won’t force his way in.

Nightmare: He’s not going to start a war with me over a single human soul.

Nightmare: He won’t do **anything** to defy me so directly.

Nightmare: All I need to do is break the Silence and name myself as the heir, and the Elysium-Maar Convention would be no more.

Nightmare: The peace between Heaven and Hell would be no more.

Nightmare: Diavolo can’t afford to take that risk. **He doesn’t dare**.

MC: ...

Nightmare: As for those from the House of Lamentation...

Nightmare’s mouth twists into a malicious sneer.

Nightmare: I might tolerate Diavolo at my doors, but not the others.

Nightmare: As long as you’re my guest here, all intruders will be annihilated on approach.

Nightmare: That is why, if you care about their lives, you better pray they’re not coming to rescue you.

MC: I don’t have to pray.

MC: I trust Diavolo to stop them first.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the House of Lamentation...

An immense, incredibly detailed map of the Devildom is spread on the table. The map has a lot of marks on it, and some parts are even animated. Several demons are gathered around it.

Leviathan makes a mark on the map while consulting his D.D.D.

Leviathan: Another portal failure confirmed. The Broken Canyon. I'm not sure what happened to it. There is...let me see...something like a cloud of moths in portal's place? Or locusts? The picture is really unclear. The moths are already scattering...Now it’s gone completely.

Satan: There are no more portal points left at the Broken Canyon.

Belphegor: I kept telling you, forget the Canyon, it’s too far away. We should try again with the Desert of Delusion. Nightmare himself always took that route.

Beelzebub: ( **shink** ) ( **shhink** ) ( **shiiink** )

Satan: He must have planned his excursions several days in advance. We don't have the same leisure.

Leviathan: A confirmed portal failure at Sorrow's End. I see teeth marks...This portal got chewed upon. That was the last point at Sorrow.

Asmodeus: I keep sending scouts to the Desert, but none of them report back.

Leviathan: Well, the creatures in the Desert of Delusion defy all natural laws. Your scouts are probably all eaten, Asmo.

Asmodeus: Should I try a stronger scout?

Satan: No, not yet. The scouts are not the problem. It's the portals, they're not opening properly. We can try with a stronger scout once we have a confirmed functioning portal. Levi, can you get a visual on the last Desert portal? We need to know what happened to it.

Leviathan: I’m trying. There is a lot of interference there.

Belphegor: Someone who can hide well would be a good scout for the Desert.

Satan: Where is Mammon?

Leviathan: Mammon is...let’s see...

Leviathan checks the map. A large letter **M** is moving in a direct line towards the very center of the map.

Leviathan: Mammon has passed the first tier, and he’s still moving towards the Abyss.

Belphegor: Is he seriously planning to get there ON FOOT? Does he have any idea how long it would take?

Asmodeus: Mammon has never been the brightest.

Beelzebub: ( **shink** ) ( **shhink** ) ( **shiiink** )

Belphegor: Even if he got there, what about the Ninth Gates? Does he think that’s the sort of door he can simply kick down?

Leviathan: Wait, Mammon has stopped now. Maybe he’s considering going back?

Asmodeus: Has he finally used his brain and realized that he won’t get there in time by taking the direct route?

Leviathan: He’s moving back now. No, he stopped again. Now he’s moving in a circle. What’s going on?

Asmodeus: Maybe he got lost.

Belphegor: He must be trying to find a shortcut route.

Satan: Well, he won’t find one just by wandering around randomly. Lucifer, I think you should call Mammon back.

Satan: Lucifer?

Lucifer: ...!

Lucifer: Ah, yes.

Lucifer: Let me know when he’s in the reception zone. I’ll send him a message.

Beelzebub: ( **shink** ) ( **shhink** ) ( **shiiink** )

Asmodeus: Ugh, Beel, that noise is REALLY getting on my nerves. I'm trying to talk to the scouts, now. Do you really need to sharpen your blade any further? It’s razor-sharp already. Also, why is this thing so ENORMOUS?

Beelzebub: Avatar of Ruin uses a halberd. I need something with a good reach.

Leviathan: Lucifer, Mammon’s in the reception zone now!

Lucifer: All right. Thank you, Levi.

Lucifer sends a message to Mammon. Then, without a pause, another one. And another one...

Asmodeus: Just how many messages are you sending him...?

Belphegor: Let’s focus on finding a shortcut route. I say we try another portal, see if it opens to the Desert properly this time. Asmo, any word from your scouts?

Beelzebub: ( **shink** ) ( **shhink** ) ( **shiiink** )

Asmodeus: Nothing yet.

Leviathan: I have a visual on the previous Desert portal! Looks like it opened directly into a pool of lava. No wonder we didn’t hear from the scout.

Satan: Another failed portal. That makes it sixty-six failures in a row.

Leviathan: I know random portals are dicey, but how can there be such an **unlucky streak**?

Beelzebub: The Abyss itself is denying us entry.

Belphegor: ...No matter. We'll just have to keep trying. Let's try again.

Satan: Perhaps it is time we went through the official channels. What do you say, Lucifer?

Satan: Lucifer?

Lucifer does not reply. He is standing near the window, peering through the blinds into the darkness outside.

Belphegor: Lucifer, you haven’t said much since we started this rescue mission. Do you have any suggestions?

Asmodeus: Yes, Lucifer, we could really use your direction right now.

Leviathan: What do you think we should do?

Beelzebub: ( **shin-k.** )

Abruptly, the room is plunged into silence. Everyone is looking at Lucifer. But Lucifer does not look away from the window.

Satan: Diavolo has a direct personal portal to the Abyss.

Lucifer: ...

Satan: This is the privilege of the royal family. As far as I know, he is the only one who has it.

Satan: I know you must have your reasons, but...

Satan: Why haven’t you informed him of what happened yet?

The door to the room opens.

Diavolo: Yes, Lucifer. Why haven’t you?


	24. Last Infernal Paradigm: Self

Nightmare: There you go. I have answered your question.

Nightmare: Now it’s your turn. Tell me about your relationship with Luke.

MC: Luke is...

MC: Actually, I’m not sure myself.

MC: I feel like I know, yet don’t know at the same time. It feels so strange.

Nightmare: That’s one high-quality memory suppression.

Nightmare: But don’t worry. You don’t have to answer my question.

Nightmare: I have already figured it out.

MC: You...have?

Nightmare: Indeed. I think I understand the true nature of the bond you share with Luke now.

Nightmare: And I have a rough idea of how to bypass it.

Nightmare: I apologize in advance if it hurts.

Huh? I’ve just noticed something strange. The red moon overhead is changing color. It’s turning charcoal grey.

And one by one, the stars are going out.

I blink. The world —

— looks different, now.

Nightmare: How are you feeling?

MC: Strange. **Where is all the light?**

All the light has gone out of this world. I only see the shades of darkness.

Nightmare: **Very good**. Now...

Nightmare: There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you. But the time was never right.

Nightmare: Finally, the time is now.

Nightmare: You see, the soul within your vessel... **belongs to Lilith**.

I don’t respond. I am watching the dark sky, where not a star can be seen.

Nightmare: It’s not that Lilith was affecting your soul. It’s that you were Lilith to begin with.

Nightmare: There was only **Lilith**. There was never **you**.

Nightmare: You never existed in the first place. You were always a mere shell, a vessel for someone else's fire. You're an Avatar of a dead angel.

I am staring at the spot where the moon used to be. There is something...missing, isn’t it? Something I could have used as a counter. But no matter how hard I look, I can’t find it again.

Nightmare: But don't lose hope yet. There is a way for you to exist. **The only way**.

Nightmare: I can help you.

MC: How?

Nightmare: **Give me your soul**.

MC: ...

Yes. This is the only way.

If my soul belongs to Lilith, I want it **out** of me. I want to give it away. Only a demon can help me with something like that.

Nightmare: Once Lilith’s soul is gone from your vessel, you can finally **be you**.

Yes. If my soul belongs to Lilith, I’d rather be without a soul at all.

Nightmare: What is your answer?

MC: If my soul belongs to Lilith, I...

MC: ...I’d rather give it to Lucifer.

Nightmare: ... **What**?

MC: That soul belongs to his beloved sister. I can’t treat it carelessly. I can’t hand it over to some random demon.

Nightmare: **Some...RANDOM...demon...!  
**

MC: It doesn’t have to be Lucifer. Any one of them is fine. Belphie would be happy to receive it, I’m sure. He would treasure it.

Nightmare: ... **!!** ... **!!!**

MC: All right, it’s settled. I’ll hand it over to her family later. They can keep it safe.

Nightmare: ...No matter. No matter. This is good enough. Not wanting your soul is enough of an anchor. It would just take longer, that’s all. Yes, a few more hours, at most. I’ve waited for so long. I am so close. I’m **not** going to lose control now.

Nightmare: A few more hours is nothing at all.

I smell ozone in the air, and then —

A vicious chain wraps around my chest. **  
**

Something dark and cold engulfs my heart. I receive a shock, as though I'm plunged into icy water. For a moment, I black out.

My consciousness returns reluctantly. My head is heavy, and my mind is fuzzy.

I feel so weak. I have no strength at all.

Nightmare: It’s all right.

Nightmare changed back into Luke’s form. He is untangling the vines from my hands.

Nightmare: Give your soul to Lucifer? Or Belphegor? Don’t be **ridiculous**.

My hands are now free, but I don’t move them. I don’t feel like moving.

Nightmare is unbinding my feet.

Nightmare: Once an angel, always an angel. A fallen angel isn’t worthy of your soul. You will only be betrayed.

I am now free of restraints.

I don’t move from the spot.

I don’t feel the need.

Be it freedom or confinement, it’s all the same to me.

Nightmare gently helps me into a sitting position.

Luke’s angelic eyes meet mine up close. He puts his arm around my shoulder. He's saying something to me, very softly.

I have to strain my ears to hear.

Nightmare: Never trust an angel.

Voice: **ENOUGH!**

Nightmare: ...!

Voice: **GET YOUR HANDS OFF THIS HUMAN!**

MC: (That voice...!)

For the first time, I feel like moving. I turn my head towards the voice.

MC: (Ugh, **LIGHT**...!)

I am momentarily blinded. There is so much light emanating from that figure.

MC: (So **that’s** where...all the light in this world has gone!)

I squint at the source of radiance, blinking rapidly. I need to quickly get used to that brightness. I want to see who that is.

An angel, right? So bright, it has to be an angel.

The figure slowly comes into focus.

This is an angel, and I know him.

It’s Luke.

The **real** one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY, Luke is here! Now, we're going to have some REAL fun. >:)
> 
> Attention all passengers, fasten your seat belts, our story is entering the zone of intense turbulence. It's gonna be a rough ride from now on.


	25. The Watchdog of Heaven vs. the Demon Prince

I can see Luke’s appearance clearly now.

What the...? What **happened** to him?

Luke looks like he’s been rolling in mud. His clothes are torn and filthy, and even singed in places.

He’s holding something in his mouth. As I watch, he bites it in half and spits it out. The fragments drop on the ground. That looks like it used to be a rope...

Nightmare: Did he chew through his restraints again?

Nightmare lets go of me and steps towards Luke. He doesn’t look concerned. He doesn’t even bother to change out of his form. He looks like Luke’s cleaner, calmer version. The version that doesn’t hurt my eyes to look at.

Luke’s gaze rests on me, and I flinch. It feels like a hot ray of sun is focused on me, burning my soul and my heart.

But it only lasts for a moment. Luke turns his gaze away from me and stares directly at Nightmare. His impossible angelic eyes are incandescent with wrath.

Luke: You dare use my face against this human?

Luke: You dare twist my own words?

Luke: **I will obliterate you**.

Whoa, Luke...?!

I’ve never seen him like this before.

Luke’s shining figure shifts. He raises his hands. In each hand, he’s holding what looks like a paper talisman. Both talismans are burning with Celestial script. The power of it is scorching my skin even at this distance.

Luke: Nightmare, Avatar of Ruin. In accordance with the Elysium-Maar Convention, let Heaven’s Judgement be rendered upon you.

The talismans flare and burn to ashes. Above us, two immense objects appear, made entirely out of light: scales, and a pendulum sword.

My heart sinks. What is Luke planning to do? I still remember Simeon’s note. It said quite clearly that administering judgement is a duty of a high-ranked angel. Not of a low-ranked angel like Luke.

Both Luke and Nightmare are looking up at the scales. Nobody is paying attention to me. Keeping my head down, I start crawling forward amidst the field of flowers, moving like a crab in Luke’s direction.

Luke: You stand accused of the sin of **carelessness** , which nearly led to a human soul’s destruction.

Luke: You stand accused of the sin of **deception** , which gave you an unfair advantage in the ancient game.

Luke: You stand accused of the sin of **pride** , for acting above your station and placing an unlawful royal claim upon a human heart.

An invisible weight tips the scales. The balance is disrupted.

And then an inhuman voice speaks, quiet and dispassionate, neither sentient nor artificial, and all other sounds vanish except for that voice.

Scales: Guilty. Guilty. Guilty.

Scales: Nightmare, Avatar of Ruin, you’ve been found guilty of all charges.

Scales: Your punishment has been decreed.

The pendulum sword swings. The sword of light falls upon Nightmare, who looks completely unconcerned.

When the blade is almost upon him, Nightmare raises his hand lazily.

Nightmare: **My turn**.

The blade freezes in midair, less than an inch away from his hand.

No good! I start crawling faster. I have already bypassed Nightmare by a wide detour, and now I’m making a beeline towards Luke.

Nightmare: I shall now answer all charges.

Nightmare: According to the Devildom's royal exemption, endangering a soul is **permitted** as long as the soul is not destroyed.

Nightmare: According to the Devildom's royal exemption, **all is fair** in the ancient game, including deception.

Nightmare: According to the Second Amendment of the Convention, Avatar of Ruin may apply for **any and all** claim or exemption on behalf of the Devildom's royal family.

Nightmare: Now, I would like to file an application for both royal exemptions and for the royal claim as mentioned before.

Scales: Approved. Approved. Approved.

Scales: Nightmare, Avatar of Ruin, you've been cleared of all charges.

Nightmare: **I am not done yet**.

MC: ...!

I have a very bad feeling about what’s coming.

Nightmare and Luke stand facing each other, and I am in the middle between them. My head isn’t visible above the gently swaying flowers. I’m almost halfway through. I'd better hurry and reach Luke.

Nightmare: Luke, watchdog of Heaven in training. In accordance with the Elysium-Maar Convention, let Heaven’s Judgement be rendered upon you.

Nightmare: A low-ranked angel isn’t qualified to administer judgment. On behalf of the Devildom's royal family, I accuse you of several sins.

MC: (Sure enough...!)

Nightmare: You stand accused of the sin of **carelessness** , which nearly led to a wrongful judgement.

Nightmare: You stand accused of the sin of **deception** , for rendering judgement by misusing your training tokens of authority.

Nightmare: You stand accused of the sin of **pride** , for overstepping your rank in the Celestial hierarchy.

Scales: Guilty. Guilty. Guilty.

Scales: Luke, watchdog of Heaven in training, you’ve been found guilty of all charges.

Scales: Your punishment has been decreed.

The pendulum sword swings back, in full force.

The sword is swinging towards Luke!

What is it going to do to him? I don’t know, and I don’t want to find out!

I lunge to my feet and throw myself in front of the sword.

MC: **STOP**!

It doesn’t stop...!

The shining quality of it is immaterial. I have a feeling that it would pass right through me without affecting me, as though the sword and I exist on the separate layers of reality.

How did Nightmare make it stop?

MC: **My turn!**

Everything comes to a halt. The sword, the sound, even the light.

I can feel someone’s — or something’s — attention upon me, a perplexed sort of gaze.

The judge is gazing upon me.

Scales: There are only **two** plates in the scales of judgement.

MC: Yes, and I have something to say about **one** of those plates.

There is an infinitesimal pause as my words are considered.

Scales: Speak...human.

I don’t miss the slight hitch before the word “human”, as if the scales aren’t sure how to classify me.

I don’t know any of the laws concerning Heaven and Hell. But I’m not here to dispute the results of judgement, so hopefully I’ll be able to get through to this — artifact? scales? judge? — anyway.

MC: I apologize for everything Luke has said and done just now. It’s because he hasn’t been trained well. But you’re also at fault.

There is a much longer pause now.

Scales: **I am at fault?**

MC: That’s right. You can’t punish the dog for his transgressions. You have to punish the dog's owner.

Another pause. A very long pause, now.

I’m waiting impatiently for the reply. What is the judge doing now? Maybe thinking, or consulting the laws? Before, it could render judgement without a second’s delay, so what’s taking so long now? I haven’t even said anything complicated. Certainly nothing on the level of legalese that’s been thrown around before.

Scales: Luke is an angel in training in the Department of Judgement. That means his owner is... Archangel Michael?

 **What**?

I nearly jump in outrage.

MC: How can it be **Michael**? Just because he’s an **archangel** , that doesn't mean he owns Luke! He's just in charge, that's all!

MC: I was talking about **myself**. Luke belongs to me!

I point at myself to emphasize, and pronounce my words clearly.

MC: **I am Luke’s owner. He is my dog. I will answer for his sins.**

There is a weird, jarring hum in the air.

Scales: A human, to answer for the sins of an angel on duty...who rendered judgment for the sake of said human... no precedent...

MC: Something always happens for the first time, right? Let’s **make** it a precedent.

The hum is getting louder. The sword of light is starting to shake.

...It is just me, or is there something **wrong** with the judge?

Abruptly, the pendulum sword comes into motion. But instead of moving towards me, it swings at a random arc sideways, cleaving through the flowers and leaving a deep gush in the ground. It's shaking and jerking as it goes. Then it swivels into the opposite direction.

I KNEW something was wrong!

At this moment, the entire world resumes its movement. I can hear two voices shouting in unison.

Luke: I invoke **Celestial Appeal** , requesting case transfer to Elysium Tribunal!

Nightmare: I invoke **Infernal Injunction** , requesting trial by combat on Maar’s Arena!

MC: Watch out! That thing’s **gone wild**! DODGE!

The pendulum sword whooshes above my head just as I flatten myself against the ground. The hum builds up to an ear-splitting shriek. The pendulum sword is rotating wildly, swinging like a scythe in random directions, cutting through the grass, the obsidian floor, and the statues alike.

I hear shouts of surprise, then thunder, followed by a rapid series of black lightning strikes. The ground is shaking and rumbling, while I lie as flat as possible, covering my head with my arms. I smell ozone and freshly cut glass, and honeyed fragrance of flowers.

 **BOOM**.

I raise my head just in time to see the sword of light collide head-on with the scales, cleaving it in half.

 **SCREEEECH**.

The sword breaks off the pendulum and sails off in a wide arc into an unknown direction.

The broken scales and the remains of the pendulum still linger for a second, but then the debris crumble into particles of light, which rain down like a shower of stars upon all of us.

Abruptly, there is silence.

The light rains upon Nightmare, who is standing with his hands raised, holding up a huge translucent shield of Prime, covering the entire field.

It rains upon Luke, who is sitting on the ground dumbfounded, gaping at the place where the scales used to be.

It rains upon me, as I lie in the plowed field of flowers, staring up at the stars and the red moon overhead.


	26. The One Who Got Away

Diavolo enters the room, followed by Barbatos.

The door closes behind them.

For a moment, the room is absolutely silent and still. Then, as though from a stone dropped into a pool, a ripple of movements spreads.

Leviathan touches the map, and it goes dark. Satan takes out his D.D.D. and starts tapping on it. In one smooth movement, Asmodeus removes his pearl earring, tosses it into his mouth, and chomps on it. Belphegor ducks under the table. Beelzebub draws his weapon closer.

Lucifer does not move.

Diavolo: **KNEEL**.

Diavolo’s command sweeps across the room with tremendous force.

Leviathan and Asmodeus are hurtled off their chairs, hit the floor, and directly pass out. Satan is thrown into the wall behind him with enough force to embed him into it. Beelzebub is pressed onto the floor until he’s lying prone and can’t move.

Lucifer is forced to his knees. He remains there, perfectly still, his head bowed. Diavolo approaches him and stares down at him.

Diavolo: I already know why you haven’t informed me. That was a rhetorical question.

Beelzebub twitches. He never released his grip on his weapon. Barbatos rushes towards him and starts wrapping him in a long golden chain.

Diavolo strides forward. He moves past kneeling Lucifer, past immobilized Beelzebub, past embedded Satan, past unconscious Asmodeus. He goes around the table, and stops.

Diavolo looks down at Belphegor, who is lying on the floor, his eyes closed, breathing evenly. Evidently, Belphegor is asleep.

Diavolo: Did I get him?

Barbatos has finished wrapping up Beelzebub into a chained cocoon. He comes up to Diavolo and stares at Belphegor too.

The two of them contemplate the sleeping Belphegor in silence.

Barbatos: No, Young Master. He retreated to the dreamscape. What’s more —

Barbatos glances at Belphegor’s hand, which is grasping Leviathan’s ankle.

Barbatos: He took Leviathan with him.

A fine crease appears on Diavolo's forehead.

Barbatos: His ability has a time limit. He’ll have to return in a few minutes. At most, it would only take an hour. Shall we wait?

Diavolo: No. Go after him, and capture them both. Bring them back, as quickly as you can.

Barbatos: As you command.

Barbatos turns into black smoke, which siphons into the sleeping Belphegor and disappears. Belphegor’s eyebrows twitch in his sleep.

Diavolo makes himself comfortable in a chair facing Lucifer.

Diavolo: Have you had any luck with entering the Abyss?

Lucifer is silent. Diavolo nods, as though he received a response.

Diavolo: No, I don’t imagine you would have. Ruin doesn’t want you there. If possible, he’d rather avoid the situation where he has to obliterate all of you at his gates.

Diavolo: Plenty of demons would happily do as he commands. If he doesn’t want random portals to open near the Abyss, then none would open. The portal idea was doomed from the start.

Diavolo: But you already knew that. Didn’t you, Lucifer?

Diavolo leans forward, his elbows on his knees, and scrutinizes Lucifer, as though he’s trying to read a particularly obscure inscription.

Lucifer is silent and motionless. Nothing shows on his face. His head is lowered, his hair spilling forward, covering up his eyes.

Diavolo: I, too, would like to avoid the situation where your entire family perishes at Ruin’s hands.

Diavolo: This time, we’re in agreement, he and I.

Diavolo: That is why, none of you will be going to the Abyss tonight, be it by portal, on foot, or by any other means. I will stop all of you here.

Lucifer is silent.

Diavolo: You’ve always been good at keeping your silence.

Diavolo: Although it’s been a while since you gave me a silent treatment like this.

Diavolo raises to his feet.

Diavolo: Where is Mammon?

No response.

Diavolo: **Answer my question, Lucifer. Where is Mammon?**

Lucifer speaks for the first time since Diavolo entered the room.

Lucifer: I don’t know.

Diavolo moves to the table and studies the map. There are still manual marks on it indicating failed portals, but the map is no longer animated. It looks dark and still, as though power had gone out of it. And the large letter **M** is nowhere to be seen.

Diavolo strides over to Satan, who's still embedded into the wall, and picks up the D.D.D. that has fallen out of Satan’s hand.

After examining the D.D.D., it becomes apparent that Satan managed to tap on Mammon’s contact name and opened the message window, but had no time to type a message, much less send it off.

Diavolo: Give me your D.D.D., Lucifer.

Lucifer hands it over without a word of protest. It soon becomes apparent why.

Lucifer’s D.D.D. is scrapped. It looks charred and bent inwards. Clearly, a demon with more power than time simply crushed it in his hand. No sent messages can be recovered from it.

Diavolo drops the useless D.D.D. on the table.

Diavolo: Who can tell me Mammon’s last known whereabouts?

This time, Lucifer responds without additional prompting.

Lucifer: Leviathan.

Diavolo retakes his seat in the chair.

Diavolo: Very well. Let’s wait for Barbatos to bring them both back. Then I will question Leviathan.

Diavolo: Dreamscape may be Belphegor’s domain, but no one has escaped Barbatos yet.

Diavolo: **This won’t take long**.


	27. The Messenger

Gingerly, I get to my feet and look around.

Looks like Luke and Nightmare are both all right. I have managed to avoid damage as well. Although, there’s not much left of the statue garden.

I glance up at the sky, where the aurora of the wreckage is still glowing.

Unbelievable. The Scales of Judgement are really broken, aren’t they?

No, rather than broken...isn’t it more like **obliterated**?

Yup, not even pieces remain. Even the aurora is slowly fading.

That...might be for the best. If there’s no evidence left, they can’t trace the incident back to here. I have a sneaking suspicion that the whole thing is somehow MY fault.

Although, if Michael wants to know what happened, all he needs to do is question Luke.

And if Diavolo wants to know what happened, all he needs to do is question me.

I guess there's no hiding it, is there. As long as both of us manage to leave here, that is.

...Diavolo shouldn’t have any complaints about this... **accident** , right? A human wrecking the Celestial Scales of Judgement in the Devildom... There is **no way** this could negatively impact the harmony between the Three Realms, and disrupt his dream of mutual appreciation... right?

 **RIGHT**?

UGH! Dammit all. Why are all the artifacts around here so FRAGILE?

To my right, Luke is getting to his feet too. Our eyes meet. He steps towards me.

Nightmare: **I don’t think so**.

The ground splits at Luke’s feet. A gaping chasm opens right in front of him. For a long, horrifying moment Luke balances on the edge.

MC: LUKE!

A strong gust of wind pushes Luke away from the chasm. He falls backwards and lands safely on his backside into the grass.

My heart hammering in my throat, I turn to glare at Nightmare.

MC: **What do you think you’re doing?**

Nightmare: **No, what do YOU think you’re doing?**

Nightmare is livid. His fury emanates from him in dark waves.

Nightmare: Why did you stand between this angel and his sentence? Why did you speak before the judge, and try to take this angel’s place? Don’t you know you would’ve been **obliterated**?

Nightmare: The Scales are not meant to judge **humans** , they’re for settling disputes between **heaven and hell**. Should the Sword of Judgement fall upon you, your soul would be completely wiped from existence, so that nothing at all would remain!

Nightmare: Didn’t you promise me not to risk your soul anymore? If you break your promise, you should be prepared to **pay the price**.

Nightmare points his hand, wrapped in darkness, at Luke. I hastily move to block his line of sight.

MC: I didn’t break my promise.

Nightmare: Oh?

Nightmare lowers his hand, frowning.

Nightmare: You’re pretty convinced that you speak the truth. Let’s hear your **excuse**.

MC: I promised that I wouldn’t risk **my** soul. I said nothing about not risking **Lilith’s** soul.

MC: I don’t even exist in the first place, so how could I be destroyed?

A grimace contorts Nightmare's face.

Luke: **Look what you’ve done** , demon. Are you satisfied?

Luke pushes himself to his feet and glares at Nightmare across the chasm.

Luke: **This** is what you have achieved. How could one demon mess up the ancient game **so badly**?

Slowly, Nightmare folds his arms. The dark fumes withdraw into his Luke-like form. He contemplates me for a long moment.

Nightmare: I thought you wanted to keep Lilith’s soul safe?

MC: I want to keep it safe if it’s convenient. I have no intention of keeping it safe **at any cost**.

MC: If I have to choose between Lilith’s soul and Luke’s well-being, it’s obvious what I would choose. There is simply no comparison.

MC: **Lilith deserves to be destroyed.**

MC: Her sentence was pronounced long ago. She’s been living happily on borrowed time that Lucifer bought for her. Her selfishness is the cause of all trouble.

MC: She got what she wanted, and **her family paid the price**.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the dreamscape...

Leviathan: (Wow, it’s **sunlight**!)

Leviathan: (Wait, I know this place. This hill, and this apple tree here.)

Leviathan: (This is where Belphie used to play with Lilith in the Celestial Realm.)

Leviathan: (When they got tired, they used to take an afternoon nap under the shadow of this tree together.)

Leviathan: ...

Leviathan: (The sunlight is really bright. I’m not used to it.)

Leviathan raises his hand to cover his eyes, and the motion sends a twinge of pain to his shoulder blade.

Leviathan: Ow, OW! Diavolo REALLY didn't hold back.

Belphegor: Are you starting to see his true nature now?

Leviathan: ...!

Leviathan turns around to see Belphegor.

Belphegor is wearing the same clothes he did back in the Celestial Realm. One could almost mistake him for an angel.

Leviathan: So, um... Do you come here often?

Belphegor: Now is NOT the time for this.

Belphegor: I have a question about the Devilnet coverage.

Leviathan: ??

Belphegor: Do you know any place in the Devildom from where you can send a message to the Valley of Ruin?

Leviathan: ...Yeah.

Leviathan: There is one place with one hundred percent signal strength. If you go there, you can send a message to anywhere in the Devildom, including the deepest reaches of the Abyss, even to the bottom of the Miasma Ocean, where normal Devilnet towers cannot reach.

Belphegor: What is that place?

Leviathan: It’s a mountain, called **the Peak of Ambition**.

Leviathan: I used to dream about climbing it one day, just to enjoy the full coverage at the peak for an hour or so.

Leviathan: But I came to realize that dream was unrealistic. You need to be in **top physical shape** for it, not to mention undergo rigorous **group training** , and you can’t even climb **solo** , because it requires **team support** and specialized equipment that you **can’t buy on Akuzon**. And of course, you need to make a climbing reservation **a hundred years in advance**.

Belphegor: You’re in luck, because your dream comes true today.

Leviathan: ??

Belphegor: You’re going to climb the Peak of Ambition. Right now.

Leviathan: ... **?!**

Belphegor: And once you’re at the top, you’re going to send a message to our human in the Valley of Ruin. Give me your D.D.D., I’ll type the message.

Leviathan: Wait, wait, wait. Slow down here. I don’t think you understand.

Leviathan: **I can’t do it**.

Leviathan: You should’ve chosen someone else as a messenger. Satan, or Beel. Even Asmo would’ve been a better choice than me. I’m a weakling!

Belphegor: No, Levi. It’s you who do not understand.

Belphegor: I chose you because **you’re the only one who can do it**.

Belphegor: Your D.D.D. Now.

In total confusion, Leviathan hands his D.D.D. over.

Belphegor types up the message and hands it back to him.

Leviathan reads the message. Then he reads it again.

Leviathan: Belphie... are you sure this is correct?

Belphegor: Of course, I’m sure.

Leviathan: But...

Leviathan: How did you manage to obtain this information?

Belphegor: What do you take me for? I am a demon.

Dressed all in white, with the afternoon sun igniting the golden embroidery on his clothes, Belphegor looks like a shining picture of a sleepy angel.

Belphegor: I am Avatar of Sloth.

Belphegor: True, I lost the ancient game against Nightmare, and ended up being used as a pawn.

Belphegor: But I’m not the type to go down without a fight. He saw me, but I saw him too. I got something of **his** , and he’s not aware of it. This is the price of his arrogance.

Belphegor: Do you understand the importance of this message?

Leviathan: Yes, of course I do...!

Belphegor: Well, then. I’ll bring you **out** , as close to the Peak as possible. Time is of the essence. I’ll stay here and delay Barbatos as long as I can.

Leviathan: I’m REALLY not sure I am —

Belphegor: Remember, Levi. It’s a dream, so anything is possible. No one can match your ability to get absorbed in delusions.

Belphegor: Now, off with you, and make sure the message is delivered.

Leviathan: Belphie, WAAAAAI —

Leviathan disappears, and Belphegor turns to face the encroaching shadow that darkens the sky.

* * *

Nightmare: Look at this, angel. Do you dare to repeat that I placed an unlawful claim?

Nightmare: This human’s heart is overflowing with vengeance and hatred. I did nothing to **cause** this. I only brought to the surface **what's already there**.

I glance at Luke anxiously. I don’t care what other angels think of me, but I don’t want to be badmouthed in front of Luke.

Luke does not react to Nightmare’s provocation, but he doesn’t say anything either. He is frowning, thinking about something.

I feel a sudden urge to explain myself.

MC: If, by vengeance, you’re referring to my feelings about Belphie, then you’re not being fair at all.

MC: I’m just a human, not an angel. Sure, I could forgive and forget a single accidental murder. But Belphie didn’t kill me just **once**.

Abruptly, I find myself in the middle of both stares.

Luke: What are you —

Nightmare: Exactly **what** do you mean by that?

MC: **How many times do you think I’ve restarted this time loop?**


	28. Alternative Modes of Existence

Luke: STOP. Not another word!

Luke: Why would you say **that** in front of a **demon**?

MC: I didn’t want to say anything, but you were **so silent** —

Nightmare: Oh, **I see** what’s going on here.

Nightmare: This angel’s **silence** is more effective than all my efforts combined.

Nightmare: This is not the first time it happens.

Nightmare: And he already **knows more than I do**.

Nightmare points at Luke. A HUGE, menacing ball of fire forms on his hand.

Nightmare: I want to know everything, too. **OR ELSE**.

MC: I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you everything! Put away that HUGE ball of fire!

Nightmare: ...

Luke: ...

I breathe a sigh of relief once the HUGE ball of fire is put away.

Nightmare: **Speak**.

MC: Sure. It’s not a big secret, anyway.

MC: After Belphie killed me for the first time, and Barbatos took it upon himself to choose which version of me he finds more preferable, I was in a state of shock.

MC: Not only did I mess up the task assigned to me, and didn’t find out who opened the attic door and released Belphie, but I also ended up warping history.

MC: In order to save my life, I was forced to share the info on Lilith, or else Belphie never would’ve stopped. Then Diavolo made his move, connecting Lilith to me in front of everyone.

MC: In just a few minutes, I went from being unworthy of speaking Lilith’s name to being Lilith personified.

MC: A mere mention of Lilith's name achieved everything in minutes that I couldn't achieve in weeks. Lilith’s name resolved all conflict, shielded me from destruction, and bought me a year of safe life in the Devildom, even with Belphie on the loose.

MC: Of course, there was a price to pay for that safety.

MC: I was stuck in this weird reality where everyone was fawning over me like some sort of living proof of Lilith’s happiness, and even Lucifer himself was calling me by Lilith’s name. Forget Lucifer, even Diavolo —

MC: Well, never mind Diavolo. I’ve got nothing to say about this version of him.

MC: At this point, I have failed my mission badly. I have no idea who the third party is, and it’s too late to find out. I have only two options: stay here, or return from my mission empty-handed.

MC: But I can’t go back empty-handed. My mission is not complete yet. Lucifer is counting on me. He asked for my help for the first time ever. I can't fail Lucifer. Diavolo is counting on me. I’m a self-appointed human representative. I can't fail Diavolo. This family dispute on a grand scale has far-reaching political implications. I can't fail the Three Realms.

MC: If I fail, there is no way they would be able to resolve it peacefully. There will be war.

MC: **I can't fail. I can't go back empty-handed.**

MC: Yet, what good would it do to stay here? Even if I endure this upside-down world, and finish my year in the Devildom, there is nothing waiting for me at the end.

MC: I was in despair. And then...

MC: Something interesting happened.

MC: I discovered that I can switch between those two versions of me.

* * *

Meanwhile, at the Peak of Ambition...

Leviathan materializes next to a demon sleeping at the table.

The demon is wearing a guard’s uniform. A lit tablet is resting by his elbow, with a game still running on it.

The guard is mumbling in his sleep.

Sleeping Demon: I can beat Leviathan... I’m a top ranker... Leviathan, you’re going down... I’ll be the GOAT... I’ll be number one...

Leviathan checks the game running on the tablet.

Leviathan: Lolol, noob. You think you can beat me with that sort of equipment? You’re dreaming.

Leviathan walks past the sleeping guard, towards the gate with the inscription over it that says, **Welcome to the Peak of Ambition**.

Just before the entrance, there is a bin labeled **Oxygen Masks**.

Leviathan: Don’t mind if I do.

Leviathan grabs a mask out of the bin and enters through the gates.

An immensely tall mountain towers before him, its peak lost somewhere among the purple clouds.

Leviathan: (GULP)

Leviathan: Here goes nothing!

Taking a deep breath, Leviathan starts jogging up the mountain trail.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the House of Lamentation...

Diavolo: While we’re waiting for Barbatos to return, I encourage all of you to tell me everything you know about Mammon’s possible location.

Diavolo: If, by some wild accident, he encounters Ruin, Mammon will not last twenty seconds against him.

Diavolo: We can’t allow your reckless brother to perish. We need to contain Mammon as quickly as we can.

The silence in the room is so profound, you can even hear Belphegor’s quiet breathing in his sleep.

Diavolo: What do you know about the power of Ruin?

No reply.

Diavolo: His personal fighting power and experience aside, he is the master of Aspire Ridge domain.

Diavolo: Aspire Ridge has a Source. Do you know what the Sources are?

Diavolo: Satan, do you know?

This time, there is a reply. Satan, still embedded into the wall, speaks.

Satan: The Sources are the origin of all creation. Both Infernal Prime and Celestial Essence originate from the Sources. Major cities in heaven and hell are built around them. Both Elysium and Maar are built around their own Sources. Minor cities are built around Wells, which have less power.

Diavolo claps his hands once in satisfaction.

Diavolo: Good. A brief but comprehensive answer.

Diavolo: Do you understand now?

Diavolo: Aspire Ridge has the power comparable to that of Maar, or Elysium. And Ruin is in command of all of that power. Are you capable of sieging Maar, or Elysium?

Diavolo: The answer is **no**.

Diavolo: Those cities withstood the time of Chaos, and not even a scratch appeared on their walls.

Diavolo: Whether you attack one by one, or all together, all of you will be annihilated on approach.

Diavolo: You don’t stand a chance against Ruin.

This time, Satan takes the initiative to speak.

Satan: Then, do you think we should do **nothing**?

Diavolo: **Of course not**.

Diavolo: Once I make sure all of you are safely contained here, I will go there myself.

Diavolo: I have a direct personal portal to the Abyss. I will confront Ruin, and bring my exchange students back.

Diavolo: The longer I stay here, the longer the exchange students remain in danger. By concealing Mammon’s location from me, you’re delaying me here. With your silence, you’re placing the exchange students further in danger.

Diavolo: They might be in danger right now. They might need my help **right now**.

Diavolo: Can you take the blame if anything happens, Lucifer?

* * *

MC: I don’t quite know how it happened, myself.

MC: Probably, someone called me **Lilith** one too many times.

MC: Suddenly, I wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else. Out of myself, beyond myself.

MC: I didn’t want to be **this version** of me anymore.

MC: There was a flash of light, and then I was elsewhere.

Nightmare: Where?

MC: I don’t know.

MC: I don’t even know if it was a location, or a state of being. It’s like I existed and not existed at the same time. I was neither alive nor dead. I was beyond time and space, between realities.

MC: I was lying on the floor and couldn’t breathe.

MC: I think my ribs were crushed and the fragments punctured my lungs in several places. No matter how I struggled, I just couldn’t take a breath.

Nightmare: Did you switch back to your other version?

MC: I did not.

Nightmare: ...Why?

MC: I am not sure.

MC: Maybe I lacked the strength. Or maybe I didn’t want to return.

MC: Or maybe I existed as two versions simultaneously.

MC: I was at the tea party, with everyone gathered around me, happily celebrating. And at the same time, I was suffocating to death.

MC: Sounds pretty lonely, doesn’t it? But here’s something unexpected.

MC: As I lay dying, in that place between realities, **I was not alone**.

Luke: ...

Nightmare: Who else was there with you?

MC: I don’t know.

MC: I can’t remember the voice, or the face. I only remember the presence. Strict, but comforting. If I find it close enough to me, within arm’s reach, I would recognize it instantly, even with my eyes closed. And the words...

MC: But I can't remember the words.

MC: That presence stayed with me until the very end. Always by my side, always speaking to me. Until it was over.

Nightmare: Did that entity heal you?

MC: Heal me? No.

MC: I was beyond healing. Eventually, I stopped breathing and died.

Nightmare: ...

MC: Why do you look so surprised? Even a resilient human such as myself may be struck down. Especially by a demon I was foolish enough to wake.

Nightmare: ...

MC: Since I died, and was replaced by that Lilith-like dupe, you **could** say I no longer exist, neither in body nor in spirit. But that would be very rude. I prefer the words “alternative mode of existence”.

MC: It would take more than a couple of demons with reality-defying powers to completely wipe me out, after all.

Nightmare: Enough of existence and all its modes. Don’t think I didn’t notice you trying to distract me.

Nightmare: If you died, then how did you restart the time loop? Tell me **everything**.

MC: (SIGH)

MC: **Fine**.


	29. Improbable Reality vs. Impossible Dream

Meanwhile, in the dreamscape...

Barbatos stares at the huge, twisted maze in front of him.

Barbatos: Do you think you can delay me with this sort of thing?

There are multiple entrances before him. They all look identical.

Barbatos activates his future sight. Immediately, the entrances are highlighted with different colors.

There are yellow ones (dead-end), orange ones (warp back to start), red ones (trapped, dangerous), and even a black one (a vortex in time and space, stay away).

But there is only one green entrance.

Barbatos: (This passage will lead me safely through the entire maze.)

Barbatos: ( **Too easy**.)

Barbatos enters the green passage without hesitation.

For a few minutes, he walks at a brisk pace, choosing the green turn every time. He encounters no obstacles.

Barbatos: (I should be nearing the center of the maze about now. This structure is quite complex. He must have put a lot of thought into it.)

Barbatos: (Too bad it’s not a challenge for someone like me, who can see the future.)

Barbatos: (Unfortunately, this is going to be no fun at all.)

Barbatos takes another step forward, and something clicks under his foot.

Barbatos: ?

Barbatos: (Is that a trap? But how could I have missed a trap?)

Barbatos: ...

Barbatos: (Am I imagining this, or is that a hum of some mechanism being set into motion?)

Barbatos steps off the plate, but nothing happens.

Barbatos: (Just a loose plate? The hum must be my imagination.)

Barbatos proceeds to move forward, putting the strange click out of his mind. He approaches another fork in the maze, and stops in surprise.

 **All** the entrances in front of him are colored orange.

Barbatos: (How is this possible? I clearly saw a safe green passage through the entire maze at the start.)

Barbatos: (What has changed?)

He remembers the click under his foot just a moment ago.

Barbatos: ...

Barbatos: (If it was a trap, I should’ve been able to see it with my future sight.)

Barbatos: (What is the meaning of this?)

As Barbatos stands there, contemplating the orange passages, one of them changes the color to black in front of his eyes.

Barbatos: !

Barbatos: (How curious. Let's wait for a moment and see what happens...)

All of a sudden, the entrances start switching between different colors at a rapid pace, flashing and scintillating like festive lights.

Barbatos: UGH!

With a grimace of pain, Barbatos raises his hand to shield his eyes.

Barbatos: (This is giving me a headache...!)

Instinctively, Barbatos turns off his future sight.

The entrances go dark and identical.

Belphegor’s laughter sounds overhead. His voice is loud, as though he’s speaking through a megaphone.

Belphegor’s voice: Do you like my dream invention? It’s a device that rearranges the maze at random intervals, in a random pattern. I call it **the Seer Killer**.

Barbatos: ...!

Belphegor’s voice: Oh, and by the way, it uses a true random generator that is only available in the dreamscape. Such a pure randomizer cannot exist in reality. I wonder if your future sight can predict something like that?

Barbatos: ...

Belphegor’s voice: But seeing how you just stepped on that plate, I guess NOT.

Belphegor laughs again, gloatingly.

Barbatos: (I never noticed it before, but he has quite an irritating laugh...)

Barbatos: Surrender while you still can. It would be preferable if I don’t do your domain permanent damage. I can do **more** than see the future.

Belphegor’s voice: Then show me **all** you can do.

Barbatos: **As you wish**.

Barbatos stretches out his hands. Reality ripples at his touch. Black ripples are spreading from his fingertips. A dozen, a hundred, a thousand...

 **BOOM**.

In a blaze of fire, a **METEORITE** falls from the sky and strikes the center of the maze. The shockwave razes the walls of the maze. Barbatos, who is standing near the epicenter, rocks back on his feet.

Not waiting for the crater to cool, Barbatos proceeds in a straight line through where the maze used to be just a second ago.

He walks at a steady, implacable pace, not a hair out of place, not a speckle of dust on his suit.

Belphegor’s voice: Not bad. I’d say the low probability of my maze being hit by a random meteorite is only outdone by an even lower probability of you not being hurt while standing near the epicenter.

Barbatos: ...

Belphegor’s voice: You must have spent **quite a bit** of your power on THAT little stunt. Ahahaha!

Barbatos: (eye twitch)

Belphegor’s voice: I have **much more** in store for you. I **can’t wait** to show you **everything** I have prepared. Let’s see what gives out first — your power, or my dream!

* * *

Diavolo: Why do you persist in your silence? The game is already over. I have you checkmated.

Diavolo: Or is there still some other chess piece you’re counting on, Lucifer?

Diavolo: Could it be... Solomon?

Lucifer: ...

Diavolo: I already have Solomon under lock and key. He was the first one I neutralized.

Satan: That’s breach of pact, and Barbatos will pay the price.

Diavolo: Not until Solomon is released.

Satan: Do you believe you can restrain Solomon?

Diavolo: ...I should be able to do so until morning.

Satan: Do you **truly** think so?

Diavolo: ...

Diavolo: ...It will cost him more to break out than to stay put. He wouldn't do something so impractical.

Diavolo: Not to mention, he has no reason at all to interfere. This is a mere precaution.

Satan: What if this unjust imprisonment provokes his **wrath**?

Diavolo turns away from Satan.

Diavolo: That won’t happen. Solomon is too cool-headed to act without a good reason.

* * *

Meanwhile, at an unknown location...

An immense pentagram is drawn on an obsidian floor. All around the pentagram’s perimeter, hundreds upon hundreds of glyphs spell **imprisonment** in every known language. The pentagram is glowing with the power from temporal candles.

Inside the pentagram, at the very center, a lone human figure is hovering, with his eyes closed.

It’s Solomon.

Two heavily armored demons stand outside of the pentagram, watching the figure warily.

Legion Commander: How is he?

Legion Lieutenant: Quiet. Terrifyingly quiet. No movement at all.

Legion Lieutenant: I have a very bad feeling about this assignment.

Legion Commander: Me too. I'd rather be in the Gorge of Carnage right now than here.

Legion Lieutenant: Wouldn't it be great if he's fallen asleep.

Legion Commander: Yeah, let's hope he'll stay quiet like this till morning.

* * *

Barbatos studies the dungeon stretching in front of him.

Barbatos: (The fabric of dream-reality here feels different.)

Belphegor’s voice: MY dream, MY rules!

Belphegor’s voice: I got this idea from one of Levi’s games. The D&D type. The best way to explain it is to see it in action.

Belphegor’s voice: Come on **in**.

Barbatos steps into the dungeon without hesitation.

 **DONG**.

A pleasant voice sounds.

Dungeon: The player has entered the dungeon without checking for traps. It's a risky action. Now rolling the dice for triggering traps.

Belphegor’s voice: Depending on the results of the roll, **something** will happen.

Barbatos: And what would that **something** be?

Belphegor’s voice: (cackle) The Dungeon Master will decide.

Dungeon: Rolling. Rolling.

Barbatos: (I think I know who the Dungeon Master is...)

Belphegor’s voice: Yes, I am the Dungeon Master! Behold my newest dream invention —

An image of a rolling dice appears in the air.

Barbatos: (Wait. That dice — )

Belphegor’s voice: **The One-Sided Dice**!

The dice stops rolling.

Dungeon: The result of the roll: **zero**.

Barbatos: (It ONLY has zero to begin with...! What a CHEATING dice.)

Dungeon: The player was careless and stumbled over a wire. Now speaks the Dungeon Master.

Belphegor’s voice: ALL TRAPS TRIGGER AT ONCE!

Hundreds of blades come flying at Barbatos from all directions. Swords, daggers, spears, axes, machetes.

There is a black **splash** in reality, and all blades freeze at once, stopping half an inch away from turning Barbatos into a demon porcupine.

Belphegor’s voice: Excellent reaction time! What a **lucky** player we have here. What are the chances of all the traps failing at the same time?

With a touch of Barbatos' hand, the blades rust away into nothing. The way forward is clear.

 **RUMBLE**.

Belphegor’s voice: Oh, I guess not ALL traps have failed. Check out this HUGE BOULDER rolling this way. Better do a flexibility roll right now!

Dungeon: Rolling. Rolling.

Barbatos: (What’s the point of rolling that dice...!)

BOULDER: **RUMBLE, RUMBLE**.

This time, instead of making a ripple, Barbatos tugs on reality’s strings.

The dungeon starts shaking.

Belphegor’s voice: Oooh, an earthquake? Bold choice, for a dungeon. Take care not to get buried under thousands of ROCKS.

Dungeon: The result of the roll: **zero**.

Belphegor’s voice: **ROCK FALLS, EVERYONE DIES!**

Thousands of rocks fall upon Barbatos’ head.

Barbatos grabs hold of reality and **TEARS** it.

The shaking builds up to a high-pitched vibration. The reality of the dreamscape is shuddering and groaning.

All the rocks crumble into dust, which showers down upon Barbatos.

Barbatos: Cough, cough!

Belphegor’s voice: Ahahaha! This is absolutely hilarious. Barbatos, you’re covered in dust. Now, this is something you don’t see every day. I’m going to take pictures, and post them on the Devilgram for Diavolo to see.

Barbatos: Don’t you dare...!

_click, click._

Barbatos: ...!

Belphegor’s voice: What’s the matter? You look a little **upset**. How does it feel, Barbatos? How does it feel to NOT be the one in control? Starting to feel a little **irritated**?

Barbatos: ...!!

_click, click, click._

Belphegor’s voice: Ahahaha, I can’t stop laughing. That’s a good face. The expression on your face right now, it’s priceless. That’s a good angle, it makes a good picture. Turn around for me.

Barbatos: Stop taking pictures...!

Belphegor’s voice: To think you’d be reduced to such a state. Do you know that your hair is all messed up? Do you know that your left eye is twitching?

Barbatos takes a deep breath.

Barbatos: ( **My instructions**.)

Barbatos: (I need to capture Belphegor and Leviathan. I need to bring them back, as quickly as I can.)

Barbatos: (I can’t allow myself to get **distracted**.)

Barbatos turns around and proceeds further into the dungeon.

He blasts his way through, relentlessly obliterating all the obstacles.

He is accompanied by the sound of the One-Sided Dice rolling and declaring **zero** , and by Belphegor’s laughter every step of the way.


	30. Reality Is Subjective

MC: I died, but I did not die peacefully. I had regrets.

MC: There were so many things I still wanted to do. So many demons to admire and to pet.

Nightmare: ...

Luke: ...

MC: But my main regret was that I had never managed to set Belphie free.

MC: Even as I speak to you right now, he is still imprisoned, back in my reality. And the others are still waiting for me to return with the information.

Nightmare: Why do you want to set him free so much? Didn’t he murder you? Even after what he’s done, do you still care about him?

MC: It’s not about him. I want to set him free because it would make his family happy. Or rather, they can't be happy while he's still a prisoner. Not to mention, there is that little war problem looming on the horizon unless Belphie is released.

MC: At that time, I was still naive and thought that a single conversation with Lucifer could resolve Belphie’s issues. I didn’t even know that he had already been talking to Lucifer quite regularly, without any effect. Lucifer had been trying, over and over, to get through to him, in vain.

MC: With my whole heart, I wished to have another chance at this task. I wished to set Belphie free. I wished I could clone myself again, the way I’ve done before.

MC: That was my dying wish.

MC: The last thing I saw before I died was my own face, staring down at me.

Nightmare: You managed to create another version of yourself, in that place between realities?

MC: Yup.

MC: That was a version born out of my regrets and my unfinished business. It was a manifestation of my unfulfilled desire.

Nightmare: You mean to tell me that you’re a ghost.

MC: You’re being rude again. I told you to use the words “alternative mode of existence.”

Nightmare is muttering under his breath in a very low voice.

Nightmare: Or perhaps... you are....

MC: Anyway! It’s only natural that I would become a ghost. After all, I did promise them that if I died, I would turn into a ghost and haunt the House of Lamentation.

MC: Not to mention, I didn’t stay a mere ghost for long.

* * *

Meanwhile, at the Peak of Ambition...

Leviathan is lying prone on the ground, gasping for breath.

Leviathan: (Can’t...run...anymore...)

The peak of the mountain is no closer than it was before. In fact, he barely made any progress at all. He’s still not far from the gates.

Leviathan: (Can’t...breathe...)

Here, at the very base of the mountain, there is already high altitude. The peak itself is so high above the sea level, it makes him dizzy just to think of it.

Leviathan presses the oxygen mask to his face and takes deep breaths.

Leviathan: (The dizziness has lessened. But I still have no strength to stand up.)

He tries to crawl forward on his hands and knees. After just a few movements, a roar starts in his ears, a wave of weakness rushes through his body, and he collapses.

He can’t move anymore. He can only twitch helplessly, like a beached fish.

Leviathan: (It’s...over...)

His vision is going dark. The whole world is fading. Or perhaps his dream-self is fading from this world.

Through the mist of his blurred consciousness, he can hear a voice calling his name.

Voice: _Levi. Levi..._

Leviathan: (That voice...!)

Henry: Levi. Look at me.

Leviathan: **!!!**

Leviathan’s vision clears. He stares up at the person standing before him.

Leviathan: H-Henry?!

Henry is smiling down at him.

Henry: It’s me. I’ve come to your aid, my true friend.

Leviathan: HENRY!

Henry: Come on, Levi, take my hand. I’ll help you to stand up.

Leviathan takes the outstretched hand. With surprising strength, Henry pulls him to his feet.

Leviathan: Henry, you’re so strong! I wish I could be strong like you, so that I could climb this mountain.

Henry: You can do it, Levi. Don’t give up.

Leviathan: I’m trying my best, but I just don’t have what it takes. I’m a total weakling. I know Belphie said that anything is possible in a dream, but...

Leviathan: ...even if my dreams, I'm still a good-for-nothing. I just can't make myself believe that I can do it.

Henry: Then what about me? Do you believe in my strength?

Leviathan: Of course! You can take on thousands of enemies on your own. You’re a hero of love, friendship, and justice. You never give up, and always fight for what’s important and what’s right. You’re everything I aspire to be. **You are the definition of strength**.

Henry: I came here today **to lend all my strength to you**.

Leviathan: ... **!!**

Henry: With me by your side, you’re stronger than a thousand demons.

As he listens to Henry’s words, Leviathan feels strength surging into his body. He no longer feels dizzy, and even breathing becomes easier. He straightens up.

Leviathan: ...Yeah. If I have you by my side, Henry, I can do anything.

Henry nods in satisfaction.

Henry: You will climb this mountain. And I will be your support team. After all, you're not supposed to climb the Peak of Ambition solo.

Henry glances up at the peak of the mountain. His eyes are sharp and unperturbed. He surveys the surroundings like a general surveys a battlefield.

Henry: Good. We haven’t been noticed yet.

Henry’s very presence radiates power and self-confidence. Simply being next to him is reassuring.

Henry: Don’t worry about anything, and move forward. I’ll be right beside you, every step of the way. Just like I’ve always been by your side, from the very beginning.

Leviathan: Henry...!

Power is overflowing Leviathan’s body, drumming a war beat in his blood, urging him to action. He feels light on his feet, as though he could run a hundred miles uphill and never get out of breath.

Henry: Are you ready, my friend?

Leviathan: Yeah.

Leviathan: **Let’s do this**.

* * *

MC: As a ghost, I wandered in that place between realities, exploring it. It was full of doors, and all of those doors opened into the House of Lamentation, roughly into the same time and place.

MC: But the realities they opened to were all different.

MC: Sometimes the differences were subtle. Other times, they were glaring. There were many strange things and inconsistencies. Like stitches in time and space.

MC: I know I used the words “time loop” for convenience, but it didn’t take me long to figure out that I wasn’t dealing with time travel at all.

MC: I was dealing with different probable realities.

MC: I still have no idea what exactly that place is, but I have a theory about it. Do you want to hear it?

Nightmare: Tell me.

MC: I think the whole thing is a four-dimensional search engine.

Nightmare: ?

MC: You could say it’s a simulation. A huge machine Barbatos is running in order to explore all potential realities.

MC: I know Barbatos can see the future, and he can choose a reality from any number of potential realities. But the number of possibilities is infinite, so it would take a long time to find the one you want. Especially if it’s a reality with an infinitesimally small probability.

MC: Keeping track of all those realities must be a pain too. So Barbatos has this whole many-doored structure to assist him.

Nightmare: If it’s a search engine, then what is it searching for?

MC: I think it’s searching for an answer to a question. Maybe two questions.

MC: Diavolo asked Barbatos two questions, and Barbatos is searching for answers to them.

MC: First question is: **What happens if Belphegor is released?**

MC: Barbatos found the answer to that question. I know that, because I looked at his... search results.

MC: I checked out all the possible realities, and **Belphie kills me in every single one**.


	31. Behind the Curtain

MC: At first, I thought I just caught Belphie on a bad day. I was unlucky. Maybe he had a dream about his beloved sister, playing with him back in the Celestial realm. I interrupted his sweet dream, so he woke up in a bad mood.

MC: I just need to do things differently, I told myself. I need to find the proper sequence of actions. The outcome would be different then.

Nightmare: And so you **tried out** each and every potential reality?

MC: Well, I mostly just watched.

Nightmare: Mostly?

MC: As a ghost, I had the ability to **turn invisible**. Very useful, let me tell you.

Nightmare: **Mostly**?

MC: ...Sometimes, I did try those realities out myself. I wanted to see if I could make...modifications.

MC: And I also wanted to talk to Belphie.

Nightmare: Why?

MC: I wanted to understand him.

MC: Sometimes, I would talk to him through the door, then leave before he could discover that it's open. Other times, I would talk to him after the attack, as I was dying from my injuries.

Luke: ...

MC: Don’t look at me like that. I figured he’d be more sincere once he had nothing to hide. Maybe he’d be more open about his feelings.

MC: But injuries made it difficult for me to talk. And if I tried to interrupt his raving laughter with my questions, he would just look at me strangely.

Nightmare: **I can’t imagine why**. The human he’s **killing** is trying to talk to him about his **feelings**.

MC: Eventually, I understood why it didn’t work. He didn’t know how to express his feelings in words.

MC: Sometimes, he would kill me right away. Other times, he would wait for the right moment. I think the record was a week. I was even starting to believe that he really changed his mind, when he finally attacked me.

MC: And after I went through all the major potentialities, I understood why the situation was so difficult.

MC: Lucifer is wasting his time trying to talk to him.

MC: Belphie’s lost it. He’s past the point of no return. He's a prisoner of his past, and he can't break out. **His Avatar is out of control**.

Nightmare: ...

MC: He will no longer listen to reason at this point of time. By the time Diavolo asked his question, and Barbatos had his simulation up and running, Belphie’s already made up his mind.

MC: Belphie has his little scheme already planned out. He’s going to carry out his plan, no matter what. That’s why all the potential realities have the same outcome.

MC: Once he's released, he would kill a human exchange student, which would put an end to the exchange program. Then he would proceed with his rebellion, killing everyone who stands in his way.

MC: Not that he has the ability to kill anyone other than me, the weakest entity in the Devildom, but hey. He might look rational on the surface, but he's not in his right mind. Besides, killing just me alone is enough to set off the avalanche of disaster.

MC: By the time I appeared in the Devildom, it was already too late to change anything.

MC: That’s why Diavolo said **it’s not that simple**. He’s not trying to punish Belphie for the crime he didn’t commit yet. He’s trying to **prevent disaster**.

MC: Well, rather than preventing the disaster, it’s more like **putting it on hold**.

MC: If it was just a murder of a random human, Diavolo could let it slide. Humans don’t live long anyway. But his exchange program going down is **entirely different**. And the subsequent **civil war**. Belphie was correct about that one. All the Three Realms will feel the aftershocks.

MC: No wonder Diavolo was forced to act. However...

MC: Diavolo still hasn’t given up on finding a peaceful resolution.

MC: Which brings me to the next point...the reason why I’m here, in this simulation.

Nightmare: That’s right, you said there were **two questions**. What is the **second** question?

MC: It’s difficult to say for sure. But I can tell you what that second question is **not**.

MC: It’s not about who opened the attic door.

MC: I know it, because by the time I get to the attic door, **it’s already open**. Each and every time.

MC: If I had to guess, the second question is: **What would make Belphie change his mind?**

MC: And Barbatos hasn’t found the answer to that yet. I can tell, because the simulation is still running. It especially centers on all of Belphie's probable conversations with Lucifer, because Lucifer has the biggest influence over him, and the best chance to change his mind.

MC: Barbatos has already tried all the major potentialities, and now he’s going through it all again, on an endless loop, with minor variations.

MC: Perhaps, the answer is: **NOTHING**.

MC: Once Belphie is released, that’s it. There is no salvaging the situation. That point is the singularity, past which no probabilities exist, the point where future collapses.

MC: Perhaps I am here, on this mission, because this is Barbatos’ last-ditch attempt to randomize the variables.

MC: He wants to see what happens to the situation when I’m added to the mix.

MC: I may be considered...somewhat of a destabilizing factor. I’ve been told that it’s difficult to predict my actions. I am a chaotic variable.

Nightmare: You don’t say.

Almost involuntarily, both Nightmare and Luke glance up at the sky, where the aurora of the wreckage is still faintly glowing.

MC: Cough.

MC: Anyway, if Barbaros was hoping for something like that, I’d have to disappoint him.

MC: Other than my connection to Lilith, there is nothing special about me. Once I’m added to the situation, I can do nothing but die helplessly. Each and every time.

Nightmare: What happens after you die?

MC: Same old, same old. Barbatos poofs me out of existence, and I am back to the space between realities. Then I make another copy of myself, wait for my dead body to disappear, rinse and repeat.

Nightmare: ...

Luke: ...

MC: It's not a big deal. I already got used to it. The usual routine is, I check out a potential reality, flop about making a big mess, then leave the cleanup to Barbatos.

MC: ...

MC: Sometimes I wonder if the Barbatos who poofs me is the **real** one. I might be imagining it, but he seems to remember me. His smile is getting more and more strained every time.

MC: Actually, now that I think of it... Last time he removed me from existence, he **wasn’t smiling at all**.

MC: ...I probably shouldn’t keep trying his patience. If I piss him off enough, he might really erase me, once and for all. Then I would REALLY lose all ability to influence the situation.

MC: I have finished checking out all the doors, anyway.

MC: So I have returned to this first false reality, the one Barbatos prepared for me. The one where I am Lilith’s descendant. The one where I died, and returned. The one where I am not myself.

MC: The one which is patched together from different potential realities with the lowest probabilities so crudely that **stitches are showing**.

MC: This time, I’m going to finish my year in the Devildom.

MC: It’s not that hard, really. The simulation doesn’t run that far into the future, so Barbatos has the same day on repeat, over and over again. I don’t even have to pay attention to what’s happening.

MC: This time, I will see it through to the end.

MC: I will see what happens to the stage after the play ends, the lights are out, the audience leaves, the actors are dismissed, and masks are taken off.

MC: It’s my last night in the Devildom.

MC: I am about to find out what’s behind the curtain.


	32. Two Celestial Paradigms

Luke: May I ask you a question?

MC: ...!

Luke is finally addressing me.

MC: Anything. Ask me anything. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.

Nightmare: I don’t think you’re in a position to ask questions, **angel**.

MC: Let him speak. He’s been silent all this time.

I want to hear what Luke has to say.

Nightmare and Luke are glaring at each other across the chasm. Nightmare is holding his hands together, sapphire fire shining through his fingers. Luke’s hands are hidden in his long sleeves.

I wonder if Luke is planning to do something reckless again. He doesn’t have another Celestial talisman up his sleeve, does he?

This is Nightmare’s own domain. Luke doesn’t stand a chance against him in combat. And I don’t think the Celestial Realm could afford another disastrous legal confrontation.

How do I convince Nightmare to let Luke speak?

MC: H-hey, don’t be like that. You’re the one who lured him here, remember? Is this how you treat a **guest**?

Nightmare: He is not my guest. He is **bait**.

It looks like Luke’s **status** is important.

MC: You chose a pup as bait, so you should be prepared if he **bites**. If you don’t like the results, it’s your own mistake. You should’ve chosen a different angel.

Nightmare: I misspoke. He is not bait. He is my **prisoner**.

MC: But he already broke out of the cage you prepared for him. Several times.

Nightmare: ...Why are you **always** paying attention to **everything** I say?

Another compliment that sounds like an accusation.

MC: He’s earned the right to speak, wouldn’t you say? I want him to be part of our conversation.

Luke and Nightmare: ...!

What’s with that reaction? They’re staring at me. What did I say?

MC: ...

Wait, I think I know what this is about. I know which words to speak, in order to change Luke’s status.

Luke: Do you —

Nightmare: Don’t you —

MC: I want Luke to **join our game**.

The entire world seems to pause for a moment. The invisible gears that move this world are shifting, turning, clicking together. It is as though the tremendous wheel of fate stops, recalibrates, and turns.

Then fate resumes its movement once again.

But in a different direction.

A gust of wind ruffles the shredded grass. Nightmare is gnashing his teeth. Luke’s eyes are shining with triumph. Overhead, the aurora is fading.

Nightmare: **Ask your question, angel**.

* * *

Meanwhile, at the Peak of Ambition...

Leviathan: Brrr, it’s **cold**.

Henry: Here, take this.

Henry takes the cloak off his shoulders and gives it to Leviathan.

Leviathan: Oooh, isn’t this the cloak that the Lord of Lechery gave you as a gift when you visited him in his off-world glacial palace?

Henry: The very one.

Leviathan accepts the cloak, but doesn’t put it on.

Leviathan: But what about you, Henry? Aren’t you going to be cold without it?

Henry: Not to worry. After undergoing special training together with the Lord of Lechery in his glacial palace, I am impervious to cold. I merely kept this cloak as a token of his affection.

Leviathan puts the cloak on.

It’s like being plunged into a warm bath. Heat rushes through his veins, warming up every inch of his body. His blood is boiling, warding off the mountain’s cold.

Leviathan breathes out, and steam comes out of his mouth. The permafrost ice melts around his boots. He fastens the clasp.

Leviathan: You know, I’ve always wondered what happened between you and the Lord of Lechery during that visit. What sort of training did you do together, exactly?

Henry: Now is not the time for that discussion.

Henry: But after we finish this mission, and get to the mountain’s top, I will tell you every last detail that wasn’t made available to the public.

* * *

Luke: All right, here is my question.

Luke: I understand why you let Belphegor kill you multiple times. But what I still don’t understand is...

Luke: Why did you **accept his hug** each and every time?

MC: Why not? It wouldn't change the outcome. And it might be the last hug he would ever receive from a human. He might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

Luke: How many **last hugs** has it been, now?

MC: There’s only **one** hug per each potential reality.

Nightmare: (Am I really hearing this discussion where they're **counting hugs**?)

Luke: But the number of potential realities is **infinite**. Doesn't that mean that the number of hugs is **infinite** , too?

MC: The number of **all** realities might be infinite, yes, but the number of **major** realities is finite. It's quite small, actually. Especially at this juncture, there the outcome is pretty much fixed. I ignore the realities that barely differ from each other at all.

Luke: If you’re so determined to hug him, why —

Luke: — why haven’t you done that during the last year here, while he was clinging to you?

MC: I told you, didn’t I?

MC: **There is only one hug per each potential reality**.

MC: I’m not going to hug someone who killed me. At least, not within the same potential reality. I have **high standards**.

MC: It’s not easy to earn my affection. You need to work hard for it. And if you kill me, my intimacy goes **down**. Way down, to the negatives.

MC: At least, within the same potential reality.

MC: I do reset my intimacy somewhat, when I reset the loop. Although there are still some hidden variables...

Nightmare: (Now they're quantifying intimacy? Trust an angel to turn the conversation completely nonsensical.)

Luke: Is this something to **joke** about?

Luke: Answer my question **seriously**!

MC: All right, all right. My bad for teasing you. I just wanted to see you pout.

Luke: ...! ...!!

Nightmare: ...

MC: I will answer your question.

* * *

Leviathan: (The ice is really unstable here...)

Leviathan takes a wrong step, and a piece of ice crumbles under his foot.

Leviathan: OUCH!

Henry: What's wrong, Levi?

Leviathan: I think...I twisted my ankle.

Henry: Sit down, let me take a look.

Leviathan: ...

Henry: Yes, it is a little swollen. I’ll bandage it for you.

Leviathan: ...

Leviathan: Oh! Isn’t this Mandrake Salve, made out of the Singing Mandrake, grown by the Lord of Corruption?

Henry: Of course it is.

Leviathan: (It feels so soothing. It doesn’t hurt anymore.)

Henry: How are you feeling?

Leviathan: It's fine now. I can keep running.

Henry shakes his head.

Henry: You need to let your ankle rest. We’re going to need you in top physical shape for later.

Leviathan: But we have to keep moving!

Henry: I know. That is why...

Henry turns and crouches down next to him.

Henry: Get on and hold on tight. We’re going to move **fast**.

Leviathan: ...!

Leviathan: Henry...Are you...?

Henry: Yes. I am going to carry you on my back.

* * *

MC: At first, I thought it didn’t matter what I did inside those realities. Because I would leave them anyway. And once I enter the next reality, they wouldn’t remember what I’ve done in the previous one.

MC: But after going through many potential realities, I noticed something strange.

MC: Sometimes, the things I do in one reality affect all the other realities. They change the **general state** of the loop.

MC: I call it **the ripple effect**.

MC: Not all actions have inter-reality consequences. And when there are consequences, they’re more often than not completely insignificant.

MC: But things do change. Definitely.

Luke: What sort of actions cause that ripple effect?

MC: Willingly chosen, consistently repeated actions.

MC: I noticed it with Barbatos’ smile first, and then I decided to test it out on Belphie.

MC: I would go and get killed by him, and I would accept his hug just before the attack, every time.

MC: I’m not sure how many times I’ve done that. I’ve lost count.

Luke: Did it have any effect?

MC: Yes, it did.

Luke: What happened?

MC: He started to avoid my hugs.

Luke: ...

Nightmare: ...

MC: Here's the funny thing. He was fine with murdering me, but not with hugging me. The hug seemed to bother him. Even...frighten him.

MC: Well, not right away. It was subtle at first. After I’d release him, he’d be reluctant to hug me. He’d hesitate, just for a second.

MC: Then he started to put it off.

MC: Once, I sat there for two hours, listening to him rant about Lucifer and Diavolo, until he finally proceeded with the whole hug-and-kill routine.

MC: Lately, whenever I accept his hug, he would look at me strangely. He’d just stand there for a while and not move. We’d both look like total idiots, just standing still with our arms open. It made things awkward.

MC: And during the last iteration, when I opened my arms to accept his hug, he **stepped back and dodged**.

Luke: ...

Nightmare: ...

MC: He still killed me, of course. But he did it from behind. And he made sure I couldn’t hug him first.

MC: I still tried to hug him afterwards, of course. I needed consistent data. But he **turned and ran away**. He didn’t even bother to show my body to Lucifer, that time around.

MC: He bolted the door shut behind him, too. And I was too injured to pursue him.

MC: **Tch**.

Luke: ...

Nightmare: (I almost feel sorry for Belphegor...He's been through a lot.)

MC: Anyway, after receiving so many hugs, I hope **he doesn’t feel so lonely anymore**.

* * *

Leviathan: (My ankle has finally healed, but now...)

Leviathan is breathing through the oxygen mask.

Leviathan: The air...is really thin here...

Leviathan: (Even the oxygen mask doesn’t help much anymore.)

Henry: That’s because we’re getting closer to the top of the mountain.

Henry: Give me that mask of yours for a moment, Levi. I’ll make a little modification.

Henry takes the mask and fiddles with it.

Henry: All done. Here, take it.

Leviathan: Whoa! It’s turned into a **helmet**!

Henry: Have you seen this helmet before, Levi?

Leviathan turns the helmet over several times and examines it closely.

Leviathan: Never.

Henry: This is because I only just made it. No one ever laid eyes on this helmet before, **except you**. No one ever touched it, **except you**. This is a **once-per-lifetime-limited** , **single-person-exclusive item**.

Leviathan: **…!!**

Henry: This is my gift to you, my true friend.

Leviathan: **…!!!**

Leviathan: Henry, I don't know what to say...!

Henry: Go ahead, Levi. Put it on.

With trembling hands, Leviathan puts on the helmet.

At once, a feeling of complete security envelops him. It is as though he’s back in his room. The world outside presents no danger. The harsh environment of the Peak of Ambition cannot touch him anymore.

He takes a deep, easy breath, and feels energy flood into him.

The whole mountain ordeal seems to turn into just another game in nightmare mode.

Leviathan fastens the helmet securely.

Leviathan: **Now we’re talking**.

* * *

MC: After the hug fiasco, I gave up on testing the ripple effect, and concentrated on another type of actions.

Nightmare: What type is that?

MC: **Metaphysically significant actions**.

MC: I only noticed it just recently, after I made a pact with Belphie. I found out that **pacts persist across realities**.

MC: I shocked him silly by using the pact to stop him from killing me. He was in total confusion. He kept repeating, “But when did I make a pact with a human?”

MC: You should’ve seen the fallout it caused with the other brothers, too. Asmo said “But maybe you made a pact while drunk, Belphie?” and Lucifer thought I used some nefarious black magic against his brother, to coerce him into a pact without him being aware of it.

MC: It made no difference, of course. I lacked the power to fully utilize the pact. I could only control him while I was conscious. Next night, Belphie killed me in my sleep.

MC: But thanks to that, I have discovered that it’s possible to make big, significant changes to all potential realities at once. I call it, **the cascade effect**.

MC: That's why, when I learned that Luke had been kidnapped, I was so worried.

MC: If Luke is eaten or his soul is taken away, he might disappear from all the probable realities. Permanently.

MC: And then I would never see him again.

Luke: ...

MC: For the same reason, I was unwilling to surrender my own soul. I thought that once my soul was trapped, I would be unable to return. I would not be able to traverse realities anymore and search for a solution.

Nightmare: ...

Luke: What if, after seeing the current reality through to the very end, you still won't be able to find a solution?

Luke: Will you give up then?

MC: Of course not. I will go back and try again.

Luke: ...

Luke: Why...

MC: Luke? What are you saying?

Luke: **Why** would you go **that far**?

Luke: Why not **give up and return**?

Luke: Or simply **wait and do nothing**?

MC: I **must** find a way to change the future.

MC: If I return empty-handed, there will be conflict.

MC: If I return with information, and Belphie is released, he will kill me, and there will be conflict.

MC: There will be conflict **either way**. It’s a game with **no winning conditions**.

MC: I must find a way to a peaceful future, where everyone is happy. Even if Barbatos himself has failed to find it. And if there is no way, then I will **make one**.

MC: I'm still not completely without recourse. I know I’ve already tried all the doors, but there might be another way.

MC: While I lived in the space between realities, I have discovered something interesting.

MC: If I fall asleep there, I end up **elsewhere**.

Nightmare: Where?

MC: A reality that is neither probable nor possible. An **alternative reality** that can only exist in a dream.

MC: I’ve been trying those impossible dream realities one by one.

MC: I would go in there, make a big mess, and try to trigger another cascade effect.

MC: **I don’t care how long it takes.** One day, I will be able to cause a change so metaphysically significant, that the whole multiverse will be forever altered.

MC: I will cause a wave big enough that it will reach the shores of my original world.

MC: In that new multiverse, Lucifer and all his brothers will finally be happy.

MC: Including Belphegor.

Luke: Then, you don’t intend to give up?

MC: I have no reason to give up. I know **I will definitely achieve my goal**.

Luke: **Good enough**.

Luke holds up his hand. He is grasping a long shining scroll that is trailing on the ground. The writ on it is burning my eyes with Celestial script.

To my left, Nightmare clenches his hands into fists, his face contorted into a grimace.

Luke begins to speak, and it sounds like a recitation.

Luke: There are many virtues in Heaven. Among them all, Seven are praised greatly.

Luke: Out of those Seven, I call upon two.

Luke: **Sacrifice and Persistence**.

Luke: I ask Avatar of Sacrifice, Cassiel, and Avatar of Persistence, Anselm, to lay a claim upon this human's heart.

Someone is looking at me. I find myself under the familiar weight of transcendent scrutiny. Two gazes are examining my soul.

Then two voices respond in unison, a quiet one and a heavy one.

Two voices: **Granted**.

The world flickers, and I am flooded with brilliant light.

 **It hurts**.

Two golden brands are closing around my heart, fighting with the darkness that fills it.

My ears are ringing. I hear the words that sound like a thousand bells.

**Vengeance through Sacrifice.**

**Persistence despite Hatred.**

I am torn between two opposing forces, clashing in conflict, alternating between the scorching heat and freezing cold.

This is how a blade must feel, while forged in a furnace.

After a moment, or an eternity, it’s finally over.

Completely exhausted, I collapse to my knees.


	33. Out of Control

Meanwhile, in the dreamscape...

Barbatos examines the ashen plateau before him with his future sight. Suddenly, a circle of red light appears underneath him, indicating danger. Barbatos jumps aside.

Just in time. A geyser erupts in the place where he’d just been standing, leaving a pool of black lava underneath.

Barbatos: Black...? What kind of volcano is that?

Belphegor’s voice: This is a special kind of volcano that I made **just for you**. Instead of lava, it erupts **pressurized Source**.

Barbatos: ...!

Belphegor’s voice: **Dangerous** , isn’t it? The Source in its raw form is quite incompatible with existence in all its forms. Don’t let a single drop touch you, or it might take you weeks to recover.

Belphegor’s voice: Oh yeah, and I bound this volcanic activity to a mixed randomizer. You should be able to predict these eruptions, but not too far into the future. This should make things **more fun**.

Another circle of red light appears underneath Barbatos, and he is forced to jump aside once again.

Belphegor’s voice: I called this volcanic plateau of mine: **Dance, Barbatos, Dance**.

Barbatos: ...

Belphegor’s voice: (cackle) Dance for me, Barbatos!

Barbatos is forced to make progress through the plateau by alternating between stepping and leaping.

Belphegor’s voice: Ahaha, this is so fun to watch. You provide me with so much entertainment. I don’t regret bringing you to the dreamscape at all.

Barbatos: (leap) (step) (leap)

Belphegor’s voice: Do you know how hard it was to connect the dreamscape to a raw Source? All the nearby Sources are claimed already, and they all produce either Prime or Essence. I had to find a completely wild one on a frontier.

Barbatos: (step) (step) (leap)

Belphegor’s voice: I did it all for you. Do you appreciate my hard work?

Barbatos: (This is...)

Barbatos: (leap)

Belphegor’s voice: Ahaha, you have such a dignified leap. Even under these circumstances, you look so prim and proper. It makes me want to **mess you up**.

Dozens of geysers erupt all around Barbatos at once. He is forced to use his future sight to the maximum in order to predict the future eruptions several seconds in advance.

Barbatos dashes between the red lights and leaps around, accompanied by Belphegor’s laughter tinged with madness. Numerous eruptions raise the air temperature above comfortable even for a demon. Soot and ashes shower Barbatos from above.

Belphegor’s voice: Are you enjoying this, Barbatos? Ahahaha!

Barbatos: (This is...)

Belphegor’s voice: Are you having as much fun as I’m having? Tell me I’m not the only one!

Barbatos: (...This is **FUN**.)

Belphegor’s voice: You don't get many opportunities to use your power this much, do you? You have to keep a tight lid on it. Isn’t it **frustrating**?

Barbatos: ...

Belphegor’s voice: Isn’t it fun not knowing what’s going to happen in the next moment? Because **anything could happen**.

A ball of fire falls from the sky, narrowly avoiding striking Barbatos.

Barbatos: ...!

Barbatos: (I’ve forgotten to watch the sky...!)

Belphegor’s voice: Ahahaha, yes, that’s the face I wanted to see. Are you getting excited now?

Barbatos: (This is... **exciting**.)

Belphegor’s voice: That close call happened because you’ve been holding back on me. You’re still not using all of your power. Show me **all you can do**.

Barbatos: (dash) There is no need for me to do that. (leap)

Belphegor’s voice: Tsk. You’re always keeping yourself in check. You should let loose from time to time.

Barbatos: (leap) I do not **let loose**. (dash) This is not befitting my station. (leap)

Belphegor’s voice: How can you call yourself a demon if you never lose control?

Barbatos: If I lose control —

Barbatos: ( — it would be even worse than Avatar of Disaster.)

Belphegor’s voice: Worried about the consequences? We’re in the dreamscape. This isn’t the real world. There are **no consequences** here.

Barbatos: (That is true...)

Belphegor’s voice turns silky, cajoling.

Belphegor’s voice: How often do you get to use your powers to the fullest? This is your chance. Perhaps your only chance. The world might not be able to take your power, but the **dreamscape** can take it. **I can take it**.

Barbatos: ...

Belphegor’s voice: Give me all you’ve got, Barbatos. Do not restrain yourself. Because if you keep restraining yourself —

The whole plateau turns red underneath Barbatos feet. There is a deep rumble coming from below.

Barbatos: (The Source volcano is erupting!)

Belphegor’s voice: — you’ll be the one to suffer!

The plateau is quaking.

Barbatos: **Do not provoke the powers beyond your comprehension**. I will remove your entire creation from existence with just **a touch of my hand**.

Belphegor’s voice: **I can’t wait**. Show me **everything** you can do.

The plateau heats up with pressurized Source. There is no time to waste.

Barbatos reaches out his hand and, with a precise movement, peels off a layer of reality.

Beyond this dream, there is another one. There, Belphegor is walking alone through a wasteland, under a huge red sun.

Barbatos peels off this layer.

Belphegor is soaking in a hot spring, gazing up at the mountain above.

Barbatos: (I’m getting closer now. Just one more layer...)

Barbatos peels off this layer too.

Belphegor is lying in the shadow of a lemon tree, asleep. An unfinished book, opened in the middle, is covering his face. The golden sunshine is streaming through the branches.

Barbatos: (This is it. The root of the volcanic plateau dream. If I destroy it...)

Barbatos reaches deep into the past of the tree, tracing its existence back to its origin. The tree is shrinking in size, growing in reverse, branches reducing, becoming smaller and smaller, until it turns into a lemon seed.

Barbatos takes that seed, and crushes it in his hand.

One by one, like a domino effect, the connected dreams turn into nothing, until the chain of annihilation reaches the final dream.

The volcanic plateau, and the erupting volcano, cease to exist.

The dream scatters into nothing around Barbatos.

Belphegor’s voice: That was amazing. You’ve convinced me, Barbatos.

Barbatos: ?

Belphegor’s voice: Your power matches mine. So I don’t need to hold back either.

Belphegor’s voice: **I’m going to get serious, too.**

* * *

Meanwhile, in the House of Lamentation...

Diavolo: Give up, Lucifer. Even if you enter the Abyss and start a civil war, you can never approach Ruin’s domain.

Diavolo: It took me centuries of persistent efforts before Ruin even started to tolerate me at his door. Now, I am the only one who stands a chance to confront him.

Diavolo: You might have heard of him, but you don’t truly know who he is.

Diavolo: You don’t understand his significance to the Devildom.

Diavolo: He is a leader, a warrior, an artisan, a shaper. He is a living legend, a myth. He inspires terror and awe in the hearts of innumerable demons in the Abyss.

Diavolo: It is thanks to him that demons gained their own territory during the time of Chaos. He led armies that claimed the Sources, which later turned into Prime. All the variety and richness of demonic creation stems from his victories. Entire cities were built because of him. **The Devildom exists because of him.**

Diavolo: Even Heaven fears him. After what had transpired with Raphael, they didn’t even utter a word of complaint. And even now, they would rather surrender an angel to him than incur his wrath.

Diavolo: This is the power of Nightmare, Avatar of Ruin, Left Hand of Disaster, Juggernaut of the Abyss, Founder of Maar, Artisan of Aspire Ridge!

Lucifer, kneeling on the floor: (Why does it sound like you're boasting about him?)

Asmodeus, pretending to be unconscious: (Is this really the time to recount all of his titles?)

Beelzebub, wrapped into a chained cocoon: (Diavolo is on Ruin’s side. We can’t rely on him.)

Satan, embedded into the wall: Are you planning to **confront** him, or ask him for his **autograph**?

Diavolo gives Satan a knowing smile.

Diavolo: Don’t pretend that you’re not a fan of his yourself, Satan. I know you visited all of his art exhibitions, and you even went to see his works at the restricted museums.

Satan: ...!

Satan: How...?

Diavolo: Barbatos told me. I am notified whenever someone expresses such an overt interest in Ruin.

Asmodeus: (No good, even Satan...?)

Beelzebub: (No, Satan will **not** abandon us.)

Lucifer: **Satan?**

Satan: ...!

Satan meets Lucifer’s eyes and shakes his head firmly.

Satan: It doesn’t matter if I am his fan. He is an artisan, so I will leave his eyes and hands intact when I tear the rest of him asunder.

Satan: I am not like **you** , Diavolo. I am not so blinded by adoration.

Diavolo: My vision is clear. I will keep my dream and my end goal firmly in mind even should I happen to go on a **little detour**.

Diavolo: Ruin might appear volatile, on the surface. But he strictly adheres to laws. He never disobeys the Demon King. He follows to the letter the Elysium-Maar Convention, even though he wasn’t there to sign it.

Diavolo: And he respects my authority, too. Even though he’s never shown any interest in the official business of the upper Devildom.

Diavolo: I will come to Ruin’s door, and knock.

Diavolo: And this time, I’ll be there on official business. This time, **he will have to let me in**.

Diavolo: It is MY duty and MY privilege to save my exchange students from Ruin. And I am the only one who can do it.

Diavolo: **I will not allow anyone else to interfere**.

Satan: Oh. Now I **see** what’s going on.

Diavolo: ...What is it that you **see**?

Satan: The Second Amendment of the Elysium-Maar Convention.

Diavolo: ...!

Satan: The Amendment that says that Avatar of Ruin can do whatever the royal family can do. Even if it means playing dirty while capturing a human soul.

Satan: I’ve been **wondering** why you proposed that Amendment around a year ago, when the exchange program began.

Satan: And last night, the Second Amendment was finally approved.

Diavolo: ...

Satan: You were trying to get Ruin’s attention, weren’t you?

Diavolo: ...

Satan: You knew Ruin was interested in humans. You wanted to use a human exchange student as bait for Ruin, so that he would have no choice but to finally meet you.

Satan: Diavolo, am I wrong?

Everyone: ...

Diavolo: ...

Diavolo: There are... not many things he is interested in, outside of the Abyss.

Diavolo: In the first place, there is not much for me to work with. I did not purposely choose humans.

Diavolo: That Amendment was just a shot in the dark. I never thought it would work out. It was unlikely to be approved. It was even less likely that Ruin would take that bait, and interfere with my exchange program directly.

Diavolo: He might be interested in humans as an idle curiosity, but his interest is not **that strong**. To draw his attention this much, it would take a **very special kind of human**.

Diavolo: It was a chain of events, each more improbable than the other. The final event was so improbable, it was bordering on impossible.

Diavolo: But it happened anyway. It happened in my reality.

Diavolo: **I am so LUCKY**.

Diavolo is out of breath, and his eyes are flashing feverishly. All of a sudden, he turns and sweeps the map and all its markings off the table.

Satan, embedded into the wall: (We’re in trouble. Diavolo’s lost it.)

Beelzebub, peeking through the layers of chains: (I’ve never seen Diavolo lose composure like this.)

Asmodeus, with one eye open: (Eeek! It’s frightening, but kinda thrilling at the same time!)

Lucifer, kneeling on the floor: (He’s lost control of himself a while back, but it’s only showing now. His patience is wearing thin.)

Diavolo is clutching the RAD emblem on his uniform.

Diavolo: I could go there **right now**. I could meet him **right now**. The only one holding me back is **you** , Lucifer.

Diavolo glares at Lucifer.

Diavolo: You and your **silence**.

Lucifer is silent.

Diavolo: Where is Mammon?

Lucifer does not respond.

Diavolo: If someone interrupts me while I'm negotiating with Ruin for a meeting, he will use it as an excuse to call the meeting off. He’s done that before. Countless times.

Diavolo: I won’t make the same mistake again. I will not waste this unique, improbable chance. This time, I will make sure **everything is perfect**. This time, I will make sure **we’re not interrupted**.

Satan: Have you considered that with his silence, Lucifer is **protecting you from destruction**? If you go there like that, Ruin will make short work of you. You’re not yourself.

Diavolo: **I am perfectly fine**.

Diavolo’s clawed hand squeezes his RAD emblem, fracturing it.

Satan: You’re **out of control**.

Diavolo: **There is nothing wrong with that**. For demons, loss of control is a **natural state**.

Satan: But you have no experience with such a state. You don’t know how to channel it, or to keep your balance.

Satan: You were made for administration. The Demon King wanted someone who’s the definition of composure, the foundation of peace, and the pillar of state.

Satan: Ruin is different from you. He is **always** out of control. He was made for combat. He thrives in a volatile environment. It is his element. He knows how to deal with chaos, external and internal.

Satan: He rides the waves of chaos like a professional surfer. You’re just a novice tossed into the waves.

Satan: Ruin will pulverize you.

Diavolo: **We’ll see about that**.

Diavolo: Once the conversation starts, the past no longer matters. Only the ancient game decides the outcome. All superficial differences disappear, erased by the tides of mutual fate. The ancient game reveals who we truly are. This is how we reach **true understanding**.

Diavolo: I’ve wanted this for a long time. I’ve worked towards it for a long time. Now, it’s almost within my reach. What’s the point of power if I can’t get **what I want**? What’s the point of being the Prince if I can’t even meet my own —

Diavolo chokes on his words. He gasps, but makes no sound. Red finger marks appear on his throat. A large invisible hand is strangling him.

Diavolo’s face is turning blue. He tries to claw off the invisible hand, in vain.

Satan, embedded into the wall: (The Royal Decree of Silence is in effect. No worries, it should release him after a while. He got so carried away that he forgot the law. **Do not speak of the third member of the royal family**.)

Asmodeus, peeking from underneath his lashes: (I’ve always wondered what it’s like to experience royal punishment. My rank is not high enough to risk it myself. The Royal Decree of Silence might kill me if I fool around with it. But simply watching it is also exciting!)

Beelzebub, peering through the layers of chains: (So this is how it works. The Decree is punishing Diavolo for nearly speaking the word **brother**. That must...really **hurt**.)

Lucifer, keeling on the floor, watching the struggling Diavolo with grim satisfaction: (This is what happens to those who **talk too much**.)

Finally, the invisible hand releases Diavolo, and he gasps for breath.

For a while, there is silence in the room, and only Diavolo’s harsh breaths can be heard, as he tries to regain his composure, one hand pressed on the table for support.

Finally, Satan breaks the silence.

Satan: This blunder is a testament to your inability to deal with your loss of control. You haven’t met Ruin yet, and you’re already **making mistakes**.

Diavolo does not reply.

Satan: Lucifer was **right** not to inform you. If you go there on your own, you will lose against Ruin, and the exchange students will **pay the price**.

Silence.

Satan: What will happen to your **dream** if you’re obliterated?

Diavolo: I don’t intend to lose. But neither do I intend to run away from confrontation.

Satan: Do you hope Ruin will hold back against you because you’re the Prince?

Diavolo: No. **I hope he will go all out**.

Satan: You’re obsessed with him.

Diavolo: **Yes, I am**.

Everyone: (...)

Satan, embedded into the wall: (He admitted to it so easily. The King should’ve let them meet at least once. If they had a good fight and let the steam out, then the situation wouldn’t have reached the breaking point.)

Asmodeus, pretending to be unconscious: (They should’ve met at least once, had a romp in bed together. This is what comes out of stifling your own desires.)

Beelzebub, wrapped into a chained cocoon: (Family is...)

Belphegor, dreaming of himself sleeping under the apple tree where he's dreaming of fighting Barbatos: (...the root of all happiness, and all pain.)

Lucifer, kneeling on the floor, hiding a scoff: (This happened because they’ve never met. If they did, Diavolo never would've ended up idealizing his brother.)

Diavolo opens his hand, only to find that the RAD emblem is crushed. He turns his hand over, letting the fragments fall to the floor.

Satan: Have you considered the possibility that the human exchange student has already started the ancient game with Ruin?

Satan: In that case, **you’d be the one interrupting**.

Diavolo: ...Haha.

Diavolo: **Impossible**.

With a sudden outburst, Diavolo flings the table aside, and it smashes into a wall, shattering into pieces.

Without the table to obscure his line of sight, Diavolo stares at the sleeping Belphegor.

Diavolo: What’s taking Barbatos **so long**?

* * *

Meanwhile, at the Peak of Ambition...

Leviathan and Henry are examining the sheer cliff wall towering before them.

Leviathan: Are we going to climb it, Henry?

Henry: ...

Leviathan: What’s wrong?

Henry: (SIGH.)

Henry: I REALLY want to climb this sheer cliff wall with you, Levi. From now on, the entire mountain is going to be like this. And I want to experience **everything** this mountain has to offer, together with you.

Leviathan: Henry...!

Leviathan: ...Yeah. Me too.

Henry: I want us to climb up together, just the two of us, connected by a single rope. And if you slip and fall, and end up dangling over the void, I will pull you out.

Leviathan: Of course you will, Henry. You’re very strong.

Henry: And if I fall, and you can’t pull me out, I will cut the rope off myself. This way, I can sacrifice myself for you.

Leviathan: No, you can't...!

Henry: I want to navigate the dangerous icefall together with you. I want us to dodge the fast, gigantic ice blocks and the sudden, treacherous crevasses. And if you fall and **break both of your legs** , I will carry you on my back to safety.

Leviathan: Um...

Leviathan: (This is very moving, but I don’t want to break both of my legs. That sounds very painful.)

Leviathan: Uh, Henry —

Henry: And when we’re finally nearing the top of the mountain, I want to be caught in an **avalanche** together with you.

Leviathan: ...Uh?

Henry: Even as the avalanche is tossing your body about like a rag doll, the snow is asphyxiating you, and broken trees and rocks are grinding your bones into fragments, **I will never let go of your hand**.

Leviathan: ...?!

Leviathan: W-wait, Henry. Aren’t you going to **save** me...?

Henry: Afterwards, I will dig out your **lifeless, mutilated body** from underneath the tons of snow, ice, and rock, and **bury** you at the base of the mountain, near the pond where lilies grow. I will kneel down at your grave and sob my heart out. I will curse my superior power and training that allowed me to outlive you.

There is a dreamy expression on Henry’s face.

Henry: And as long as there is still sand in the hourglass of time, I will never stop grieving you, **my true friend**.

Leviathan: (...Is it just me, or is this dream of mine getting **out of control**?)

Leviathan: H-Henry, **our mission**. We have to get to the mountain top!

Henry does not reply. He is still gazing dreamily at the cliff side.

Leviathan: I, uh... I’m sure there are tracking systems at the top of the mountain! It’s going to be **very dangerous**.

Henry lets out a long, wistful sigh.

Leviathan: We're going to have pursuers at our heels. **Armed** pursuers, trying to stop us from completing our mission. **For sure**.

Henry's expression is wavering.

Leviathan: (firmly) It will be even **more dangerous** than **everything** the mountain itself has to offer.

Henry: (SIGH)

Henry: You are right, of course.

Leviathan: ...!

Henry: That is why, we’re not going to actually climb this sheer cliff wall. At least, not today.

Henry: We’re going to take a shortcut.

Leviathan: (Thank all dead kings for this...!)

Henry takes out a pair of winged shoes and gives them to Leviathan.

Henry: Put them on, Levi. From now on, we’re going to fly.


	34. Before the Fall

Meanwhile, in the dreamscape...

A demon materializes at the entrance to a shimmering corridor. It is Barbatos, but he is unrecognizable. His clothes are scorched, his hair is a mess, his face is flushed, and he is covered in soot from head to toe.

This is the price for passing through the dream volcanic plateau named **Dance, Barbatos, Dance**.

Belphegor’s voice sounds as fresh as ever.

Belphegor’s voice: Welcome, Barbatos. Welcome to my ultimate dream creation: **the Corridor of Guilty Conscience**.

Barbatos: (Yet another strange name.)

Belphegor’s voice: This isn’t like the previous pseudo-worlds. **This is the real deal**.

Belphegor’s voice: I’m going to reach into your own dreams and **use your own vulnerabilities and doubts against you**.

Belphegor’s voice: If I don’t stop you here, in this place, then I am not Avatar of Sloth, master of the dreamscape.

Barbatos: (Why is he warning me of that in advance? By revealing his plans, he’s going to lose the element of surprise.)

Barbatos: (Or is he saying he can stop me even if I know what’s coming?)

Barbatos: (Such **arrogance**.)

Barbatos: ...

Barbatos: (Should I activate my future sight, to check this place out?)

Barbatos feels a headache at the mere thought of it.

Barbatos: (I got carried away and overused my future sight during the previous dream, the volcanic plateau. I need to let it rest before I can use it again.)

Barbatos: ...

Barbatos: (There is no need to use the future sight here. I think he’s telling me the truth about the nature of this place. Seeing the future would not be of help right now.)

Barbatos: (And if he plays any tricks, I can always destroy this dream world, just like the previous one.)

Barbatos: (Although, I’d rather not use my true power to the fullest again. It’s a bad habit to get into.)

Barbatos steps smartly into the corridor and moves forward.

He walks along the corridor of endless mirrors at a steady, relentless pace.

Countless images of various entities are calling to him out of the mirrors, pleading with him, admonishing him, threatening him. There are faces he knows well, and faces he had almost forgotten.

Barbatos ignores them all. He proceeds through the corridor at a straight line, blasting away any mirrors that stand in his way.

As he takes another step forward, a demon steps out of a mirror and blocks his way.

It is Diavolo.

Diavolo: Don’t go any further, Barbatos.

Barbatos raises his hand, intending to blast the false image away.

Diavolo is looking at him sadly.

Barbatos: ...

Barbatos: (I can’t do it...!)

Barbatos lowers his hand.

For the first time since entering the Corridor of Guilty Conscience, Barbatos deviates from a straight line. He steps aside and bypasses Diavolo. Then he continues on his way.

Diavolo takes this opportunity to follow Barbatos at his heels.

Diavolo: Don’t do this, Barbatos. Don’t finish the task I assigned to you. Turn back.

Barbatos grits his teeth.

Barbatos: (This is only a false image. I should just ignore his words. I don’t have to reply.)

Barbatos: ...I can’t turn back. I must follow your orders.

Diavolo: **Even if following my orders will result in my annihilation?**

Barbatos: ...!

Barbatos flinches.

For a moment, his footsteps falter. Then he resumes his progress once again.

Barbatos: (Don’t listen to this...!)

Diavolo: What do you think will happen if I meet with Ruin?

Barbatos: (...Don't reply to this. This image is just a reflection of my own doubts.)

Diavolo: How are you going to explain my death to my Father?

Even though he knows better, once again, Barbatos can’t help but reply.

Barbatos: The King ordered me to serve you. It is my duty to do as you command.

Diavolo: There is more to this duty than blind obedience. To serve me properly, you must stop me when I lose control.

Barbatos: ...

Diavolo: I need your guidance now, Barbatos. I need you to save me from myself, even if you have to **sabotage my orders** to do it. Or do you intend to only follow the letter of your duty, but not the spirit of it?

Barbatos: ...Should I stand in your way, or sabotage your orders, even with the best of intentions, I would be **overstepping**. Worse, I would be **betraying my duty**.

Diavolo: You're so devoted to your **duty** , but what about **me**?

Diavolo: **Could it be that you don’t care about me at all?**

Barbatos’ footsteps come to a halt.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the House of Lamentation...

Diavolo: (It’s taking Barbatos **too long**. I have no choice but to start my own search.)

Diavolo takes out his D.D.D. and posts a message.

[= The Legion’s Command Board =]

[ **Attention**. Urgent announcement for the entire Devildom.]

[All outposts, all patrols, all scouts. Be on the lookout for Mammon, Belphegor, and Leviathan.]

[Report any sightings immediately and directly to Lord Diavolo.]

Diavolo: (I didn’t want to do this. This announcement sounds like I’ve misplaced half of my RAD Council. Yet, it has come to this.)

Diavolo: (I don’t even want to imagine what sorts of **rumors** this announcement is going to start.)

Multiple _dings_ sound in the room. All the RAD Council members present here have received a major announcement notification. Belphegor and Leviathan are sleeping, Beelzebub is chained, Satan’s D.D.D. is confiscated by Diavolo, and Lucifer’s D.D.D. is crushed.

Only Asmodeus is in a position to check his D.D.D., which he does, surreptitiously.

Asmodeus: (Uh-oh. Diavolo is deploying the Legion.)

Asmodeus: (It won’t be long now before he starts a war.)

* * *

Slowly, I rise to my feet.

The conflicting forces within my heart have settled, for the moment. But I still feel confused.

Nightmare: My turn.

Nightmare: I have one last question.

Last question? Is he that confident that the game is nearing its conclusion?

MC: Ask.

Nightmare: You mentioned a presence who watched over you as you died from your wounds for the first time. Did that presence watch over you **every time you died**?

MC: ...

MC: ...That’s right. That presence was always there. Each and every time.

MC: And that is not all.

MC: It was that presence that guided me through the space between realities, where the line between existence and nonexistence is blurred. It guided me past dangers and chaos and oblivion, back to the doors where I could rest in safety, back to the first false reality where I could at least survive for a year. On my own, I never could've found that door again.

MC: Even when I ventured out into dreams, that presence always brought me back safely. Back to the starting point where I could remember who I am.

MC: Through the most fearsome illusions, through fire, water, and emptiness, that presence guided me without fail. I would trust that guide with everything I am. I would follow that guide without hesitation even blindfolded.

MC: Without that guide, I would have lost myself long ago. I would have already perished.

MC: Without him, I never would have made it this far.

Luke: ...

Nightmare: **I see**.

There is a deadly calm in Nightmare’s voice.

Nightmare: **That explains everything.**

An air of danger emanates from Nightmare, unlike anything I’ve felt before.

But Luke, standing on the opposite side of the chasm, appears unperturbed.

Luke: My turn. I also have one last question.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the House of Lamentation...

 _ding_.

Diavolo receives a message.

He checks the sender’s name.

It's a demon amateur astronomer, who is only nominally a member of the Legion. When Diavolo’s announcement took place, the astronomer was taking advantage of the Legion’s watchtowers situated at a high altitude in order to study and record the position of the stars.

The message does not contain any details, only a hastily recorded video and a caption.

Diavolo plays the video.

A demon is flying up, along a steep mountain slope, at an incredible speed. He is wearing a flaming cloak and a black helmet which conceals his face and emanates pure menace. Steam emits from the demon’s nostrils and ears, further blurring his image.

From time to time, the demon propels himself forward by pushing against the mountain with his tail and increasing his flying momentum. Each time his tail touches the mountain slope, it cracks the ancient ice.

The caption under the video says, “Is this Leviathan?”

Diavolo plays the video twice, concentrating on the details of the blurry image.

Nothing about this demon’s demeanor or outfit resembles Leviathan. Leviathan is not capable of moving with such ease at high altitude. Moreover, Leviathan can’t fly.

But, although the demon's face cannot be seen, there is no mistaking that tail.

Diavolo clicks on the sender’s contact name, and his finger moves towards the call button.

_ding._

Another message arrives. It is from the same sender. The message contains another video. The caption underneath says, “And what is THIS?”

Diavolo plays this video too.

This time, the video is so blurred that it’s almost impossible to discern what is happening.

Some sort of figure moves through the air at a speed that makes it almost invisible to the naked eye. The camera can’t keep up with this movement.

Diavolo narrows his eyes, focusing on that figure.

The figure approaches the camera fast, moving closer and closer, leaving afterimages behind as it goes. In the blink of an eye, the figure is right in front of the camera. It stops moving, and Diavolo sees its face.

Diavolo’s eyes widen in surprise.

It’s a human face.

A vaguely familiar human male is looking directly at the camera.

Diavolo: (Where have I seen him? Maybe in a movie somewhere?)

The human has calm eyes, sharp and focused, like the eyes of a weathered warrior who’s been through a thousand battles. And somewhere at the bottom of these eyes quietly splashes madness.

At this high altitude, in this freezing cold, he is wearing nothing but a sleeveless shirt, cotton trousers, and a pair of sandals more suitable for a beach.

Moreover, he is calmly hovering in midair.

The human tears the camera off the reinforced tower with his bare hand. There is a crunch of adamantine alloy being broken. The picture is shaking.

The human brings the camera closer to his face, and speaks.

Reality-Defying Human: Levi and I are heading toward the top of the Peak of Ambition. We’re going to take advantage of its superior coverage in order to send a little message to the Valley of Ruin.

Diavolo: **...!!!**

Reality-Defying Human: If you have a problem with that, then **come and stop us if you can**.

The human smiles into the camera, and madness within his eyes splashes out, flooding his entire gaze.

Reality-Defying Human: That is, **if you dare**.

The human crushes the camera with a clap of his hand. The picture shatters. The video stops playing.

Diavolo stares at the phone in his hand.

For a moment, his thoughts jumble. A message to the Valley? Why? Could it be...?

_Have you considered the possibility that the human exchange student has already started the ancient game with Ruin?_

Diavolo: **Impossible**.

Diavolo: (No. This is not a game a human can win. Not against Ruin.)

Diavolo: (A human was never meant to be anything more than a **bait**. It was never meant to be a **sacrifice**.)

Diavolo: ...

Diavolo: (...Even if the ancient game has already started, it’s not too late to stop it yet. As long as it hasn’t progressed past **a certain point**.)

Diavolo: (I will eliminate all potential interruptions. And then I will go and talk to Ruin myself.)

Diavolo calls the Legion General.

General: Your Royal Highness.

Diavolo: Deploy all available forces to the Peak of Ambition.

Diavolo: Capture Leviathan before he reaches the top of the mountain.

* * *

Luke: I said it’s a question, but it’s more of a **request**. I need you to do me a favor.

MC: Anything you want, I’ll do it.

Luke smiles at me across the chasm.

Luke: Good. Then...

Luke reaches both hands out.

Luke: Would you come here and take my hand?

I smile back at him.

MC: Sure.

I step off the cliff and into the chasm without hesitation. My foot drops into the void, and meets something solid.

I glance down. Now there is a bridge here, although there wasn’t one a second ago.

I don’t have to ask how it happened. Only one entity is capable of changing the surroundings here, in this domain.

I don’t glance back at Nightmare. I keep walking forward in a straight line towards Luke. The bridge materializes under my feet as I move.

I am very close now. Luke is almost within arm’s reach.

At this moment, I hear Nightmare laugh behind me.

The sound of that laugh sends a chill down my spine. All my senses scream of danger. Instinctively, I stop and glance back.

My eyes widen.

Nightmare has discarded Luke’s form. He has become pure Prime, liquid sapphire fire. His dark radiance lights up the entire former statue garden.

He has completely lost control.

Nightmare: Very well.

Nightmare: If you want this angel this much, then you can have him. He can be yours forever.

Nightmare: But first...

The ground trembles.

Nightmare: **Catch him if you can**.

The chasm widens abruptly, spreading forward. The ground disappears under Luke’s feet.

And Luke plummets down, right into the chasm.

I lunge forward. My fingertips almost brush against Luke’s hand. I grasp the air futilely.

Luke falls down, out of my reach.

Time stops. I feel my heart stop. It’s like my very soul plummets into the Abyss. I have a surreal feeling of the world moving off its axis.

He was right in front of me. He was almost within my reach. I almost had him.

**I can still catch him.**

Time resumes. I jump off the bridge, into the void, after Luke.

My outstretched hand closes around his wrist. And in one brilliant moment, the world rights itself.

I remember everything.

Strength is surging into me. I can do anything, face anything. I am flooded with a feeling of unlimited power, and overwhelming relief.

Clutching Luke’s wrist in a death grip, I start laughing.

MC: It’s fine now! I’ve got you now! EVERYTHING WILL BE ALL RIGHT NOW!

Luke: **IDIOT, WE’RE FALLING!**

Oh. Right. I completely forgot about that.

I am once again aware of my surroundings.

There is nothing underneath except the swirling miasma clouds.

Luke and I are plummeting toward the bottom of the Abyss.


	35. In the Middle

MC: AAAAAAAAAAH!

Luke: WAAAAAAAAAAH!

We’re falling!

I maneuver in midair, trying to keep us both flat and horizontal. The air pressure increases, and the fall stabilizes.

I take the chance to look around.

We’re plummeting down what looks like a wide chasm with smooth cliff walls. Down below, vaguely visible through miasma clouds, there are sharp rocks.

If we hit the rocks at this speed, it will NOT be pleasant.

How do fallen angels even survive the fall?

Luke is an angel. Perhaps...

MC: Luke, I see rocks below! FLY!

Luke: I have NO WINGS!

MC: Quickly GROW them!

Luke: It’s not that SIMPLE...!

Despite these words, Luke tries anyway. He knits his eyebrows and concentrates. He’s muttering something, but I can’t hear the words over the roar of the wind.

A faint glow emanates from him. But just a moment later, the glow flickers and dies.

I’m clutching onto him tightly. His face is drained of all color. His lips are moving soundlessly. I try to read the words.

Luke: _I can’t do it_.

The cliff wall whooshes dangerously close to him. I twist, shielding Luke from the impact. The wall collides with my shoulder. I feel a searing pain, then a burning sensation as the nucleus restores my body.

MC: Luke! ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?

Luke’s face contorts, as though he’s about to cry. And then he FLARES with light.

Luke is glowing brightly, and that glow forms a shape at his back — an immaterial, shining shape which abruptly slows our fall — almost like a parachute, or a pair of —

Then, just as suddenly, that shining shape is gone. Like a flick of a switch, all light disappears at once.

The fall speeds up again. We’re tumbling through the air uncontrollably, as I struggle to regain our stable position.

Finally, we’re safely away from the walls, and the fall is stable again.

I look into Luke’s face. He is deathly white, and his eyes are closed.

MC: Luke? LUKE!

There is no response.

Luke has passed out.

Down below, the surroundings come into sharper focus.

I don’t like what I see there at all.

The chasm gets narrower below, and it spirals around, like a twisted bowel. On the inside, its walls are lined with sharp, jagged rocks. And miasma clouds are spinning in a deadly vortex.

It won’t be a single impact or two. It will be constant impacts all the way down.

This is a chasm designed to torture immortals, while dragging them down.

Sooner or later, the nucleus in my possession would run out of power, and it would stop restoring my body. As for Luke, as a low-ranked angel suffering from exhaustion, he would be pulverized.

Once swallowed by that vortex, even a winged angel might not be able to escape.

Then, I have no choice but to use **that**.

Clutching tightly onto Luke with one hand, I reach my other hand into my pocket and pull out the golden half-open bracelet.

_This is Delegation of Authority. If you put it around an angel’s wrist, it will force a manifestation of wings._

It is as though I am suspended in time and space. My mind is oddly clear, and my thoughts are racing.

Should I put this on Luke?

_It will ruin Luke’s future._

_Using short-cuts such as an artifact for manifestation is considered an easy way. As such, it is highly frowned upon in heaven._

I don’t mind if Luke hates me for ruining his career and destroying his dream. In fact, I'd like that. I want to be hated.

However...

Just a few moments ago, I did NOT imagine that shapeless glow. It really happened. Luke has the ability to grow his own wings. Given enough time, just a little bit more time, he could do it. If I take that away from him...

My grip tightens on the golden bracelet.

I know what it’s like, having to rely on external influence to get anything done. I know what it feels like, having to borrow someone else’s power, and having no power at all of my own.

It makes me feel like I don’t exist.

Luke is not like me. He has power of his own. He can grow those wings all on his own. If I take that away from him...

Won’t it turn into a major metaphysical event that will cause a cascade effect, affecting all the realities, and permanently altering the multiverse? Then, no matter which potential reality, he will never have **his own** wings.

For an immortal being, would it be a fate worse than death?

MC: (To avoid such a fate, I'd happily die a thousand times.)

Then, should I do nothing?

What would happen after we reach the bottom of that jagged, twisted bowel, dragged down by the miasma vortex?

There won’t be anything left of our bodies. But our souls might yet survive.

Then, Nightmare will descend down below and pick up our souls from the bottom of the Abyss.

He is unlikely to be in a good mood when he does that. He would probably eat Luke’s soul on the spot.

Yup, he would totally eat it.

I want Luke to hate me, but I don’t want him GONE.

What’s more, if my soul falls into Nightmare’s grasp, I would lose our game, and I would never be able to leave this place.

Isn’t there some **other way**?

The recent events are flashing through my mind at lightning speed.

_A nucleus is a useful thing to have. It can even be a method to steal someone’s identity._

_Your metaphysical signature changed. Those who don’t know you’re a human might even confuse you for Raphael._

_You need an archangel’s body part in order to make use of an archangel’s heart._

Delegation of Authority is an artifact that only works on **angels**. But how does it determine if the entity is an angel or **not**?

I move Delegation of Authority to Luke’s and mine connected hands.

**And I put the bracelet on my own wrist.  
**

The bracelet snaps close. The spikes plunge into my flesh.

The world ceases to exist. Or perhaps it’s me who’s removed from the flow of time, stripped of everything except my metaphysical body.

Here, beyond the fabric of space-time, some entity turns its attention toward me.

Just like before, I feel the weight of a transcendent gaze upon me. But this is not like the previous times. It’s not the same as when I stood before the judge, who was gazing at me up close. It’s not the same as when Luke connected my soul directly to two Avatars.

This entity is gazing at me via the artifact. It’s looking at me from far away, indirectly, as though through a darkened glass.

And I can see that entity, too. I can see a powerful radiance.

I’ve been connected to an actual angel.

I can feel his confusion, then dawning recognition, mixed with disbelief.

Voice: **Raphael**?

Even if I wanted to, I can’t confirm or deny that. I can’t speak.

Voice: What happened to your wings? How do you always find yourself in these situations?

Is it just me, or does he sound exasperated?

Voice: Did Father incinerate your wings again? What did you do to anger him **this** time? And WHY haven’t I heard about this?

That would be because it didn’t actually happen.

Fortunately, I can’t reply.

The angel isn’t discouraged by my continued silence. He seems capable of carrying a conversation all on his own.

Voice: Even if you lost your wings, don’t use ceremonial artifacts to restore them. This isn’t what artifacts are for. How many times do I have to tell you —

Uh-oh. I feel a lecture incoming. After dealing with Lucifer’s lectures for a year, I’ve developed a sixth sense for that sort of thing. I have a feeling that if I don’t stop him now, he might be at it for HOURS.

Lacking a voice, I do my best to transfer the feelings of helplessness and urgency over the artifact link.

The voice has fallen silent. His radiance shifts. The angel on the other side of the link seems to be looking around.

Voice: Why are you in the Devildom again? You don’t have permission. I told you not to sneak out on your own.

He doesn't know I'm in the Abyss.

The voice pauses, and a dangerous note appears in it.

Voice: I hope you’re not planning to talk to **him** again. His mood has stabilized over the last centuries, but not where **you** are concerned. If you go there now, you’ll just get eaten again.

Voice: I’m not going to clean up your mess again. Do you know how hard it was to recover your soul last time? As if I don’t have enough to deal with right now...!

The voice is getting into it again.

Voice: Ever since Lucifer left, his entire work has fallen to me, and I’ve had to deal with EVERYTHING on my own. Instead of gallivanting around the Devildom, I wish you’d help me out with the paperwork —

Concentrating with all my strength, I transfer over the feelings of remorse, pleading, and URGENCY.

The voice heaves a long-suffering SIGH.

Voice: All right. ALL RIGHT.

Voice: **I’ll let you borrow my wings**.

A searing sensation starts at my wrist. It spreads throughout my whole being, setting me on fire.

**I’m burning.**

Voice: Fly directly back to the Celestial Realm. No detours or delays. Meet me in my office in five minutes, and be sure to bring my wings along. We’re going to have **a little conversation**.

I’m being incinerated!

Distantly, I can hear the voice still speaking to me.

Voice: I have to go now. Someone’s been hammering on my door for the last minute, screaming nonsense about some broken scales.

The connection cuts off.

I am hovering in midair, holding Luke in my arms. I have become pure Celestial fire, and a pair of magnificent golden wings are sprouting from my back.

The archangel’s wings connected to the archangel’s heart, destroying my human body in the process.

That is a problem. Once the body is gone, the soul soon departs. I better hurry.

I spread my golden wings, and tremendous power propels me upwards.

My consciousness is fading. But the top is still so far away.

I’m not going to make it in time.

Am I imagining this, or is that a **ledge** in the smooth wall, up ahead?

With a last burst of strength, I flap my borrowed wings again, flying towards the ledge.

I made it!

I lower Luke onto the ledge, and alight next to him.

With a mental command, I withdraw the archangel’s wings. Celestial fire goes out, and archangel’s heart begins restoring my body.

In a few seconds, my physical form is restored.

The first thing I do is rip the golden bracelet off my wrist.

I don't want the angel who lent me his wings to call me again, after he discovers that I'm not Raphael. I'm using these wings, and I don't want them to be taken back. At least, not right now. I need them to fly to the top of the chasm.

With a nasty **squelch** , the bracelet's spikes withdraw out of my hand.

UGH. I stuff the bracelet back into my pocket.

A wave of weakness overcomes me. I sink down next to Luke, and lie still.

The situation is bad, but this conveniently situated ledge is a good omen.

Did Nightmare regain control of himself...?

We must be almost out of bounds of Nightmare’s domain. Perhaps at the very border. Or else there’d be more than a ledge here.

Can I count on seeing another one, up ahead?

Can I hope for a chain of ledges all the way up, which I could use as a ladder, to rest between my flights?

And once I’m up there, what strategy should I use to deal with Nightmare?

If I do things wrong, will he toss me back down again?

I glance at Luke, who is still unconscious.

That...might be...

I look away from Luke, and stare at the faintly glowing walls of the chasm.

If I’m honest with myself, Nightmare is not my biggest problem right now. It is myself.

I haven’t been acting normal. My thoughts right now are not normal.

Perhaps it’s because of the conflicting influences placed upon my heart. But I don’t trust myself any longer.

Haven’t I thought, just recently, that it would be great if Luke hated me? I know that’s not how I felt before.

I am in urgent need of advice.

 **I need a coin.** Right now.

I close my eyes and concentrate on my **poverty**.

Wow, it sure would be great to have some **money** right now. I could really use some **cash**. I am absolutely **destitute**. Just a **coin** would do. A single copper **coin** would make all the difference.

With my eyes still closed, I grope my hand along the ledge.

And, sure enough, my hand encounters a coin.

I open my eyes and study it. It looks ancient. Probably solid gold, and there is an unknown crest on it, faded with time.

What are the chances of finding an ancient coin on what looks like a just-made ledge? Well...

Don’t ask me how it works, but I can find coins whenever and wherever I need them.

I place the coin in my mouth, and start counting to ten.

On the count of nine, my heart stops.

...

...

MC: ...

I open my eyes to find myself in a circular room.

Rows upon rows of shelves line the walls. Upon those shelves, there are skulls, bones, poisonous-looking mushrooms, preserved frogs, dried demon specimens, glowing potions, triple-locked books, and other dubious items.

At the center of the room, a lone human is sitting at the table, reading a huge book.

As I watch, he turns over a page, engrossed in his reading.

Should I wait until he finishes reading? But judged by the size of that book, it might take a while.

I shift from foot to foot. Should I announce my presence, or quietly take a seat and wait? I never know how to behave when I interrupt him here.

I’d better just sit on the floor for now. He will notice my presence eventually.

I take a small step back, and my elbow bumps into something.

_Tinkle._

Oh. No.

I whirl around and manage to catch the falling object in my hand.

It’s a crystal ball.

_Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle._

I look up, and my eyes widen.

There is a spiral shelf here, going all the way up to the ceiling. The shelf is completely filled with crystal balls, and several of them are already falling —!

I lunge forward and try to catch them all.

I miscalculate the distance, and collide with the shelf head-on.

The shelf wobbles and shakes — then starts falling upon me, all the crystal balls rolling out.

No, no, no!

I raise my hands, desperately trying to stop the crush.

The shelf freezes in midair. All the crystal balls freeze in the middle of a fall.

Then the shelf moves back, like a record played in reverse. And all the crystal balls move in reverse, resuming their proper places on the shelf.

I turn back, still grasping one crystal ball in my hand.

The human has stopped reading his book, and he’s looking at me now.

I offer him an awkward smile.

MC: Hello.

Solomon: Hey yourself.


	36. Overwhelming Power

Meanwhile, at the Peak of Ambition...

Henry: We’re **surrounded**.

Leviathan: Why do you sound so **delighted**?

Henry and Leviathan are hovering in midair, and Diavolo’s aerial forces surround them on all sides.

Henry: We’re **outnumbered**.

Leviathan: Again, why do you say it with such **relish**?

To say they’re outnumbered would be an understatement, as the flying demons deployed here are so numerous that they have literally darkened the sky.

The Legion closes in around Henry and Leviathan.

Henry: Levi, you’re the best. It’s not every day that I get to fight actual demonic legions. This is all thanks to you. **Thank you very much**.

Leviathan: Henry, I admire you greatly, and I thought I knew everything about you. But I never knew you were such a **thrill-seeker**.

Henry: I hide that aspect of myself. No one knows but you, my true friend.

Henry places his hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword.

Leviathan: Henry...Actually, I was wondering if you could do me a favor.

Henry smiles at him encouragingly, as though he knows exactly what favor Leviathan is going to ask.

Leviathan: I know you’re excited for us to fight an army, but maybe, if it’s possible, could you perhaps...

Henry: Yes...?

Leviathan: Please don’t hurt anyone!

Henry grins. He is looking at Leviathan fondly.

Henry: I know how you feel, Levi. We are in your home, and we’re fighting against your friends.

Henry: I have fought in many, many battles. And fighting against your friends is always the hardest. I have been mortally wounded twice, and both times it was done by my close friend.

Leviathan: ...

Henry: Before I underwent my latest training, I thought a lot about power. That was the last, transcendent stage. Passing through that stage would bring me overwhelming power. For that last stage, I would have to sacrifice some of my very **self**.

Henry: So I asked myself, what is the point of having overwhelming power?

Henry: Even if you’re weak, you can still stand up for what’s right. Even if you’re only moderately strong, you can still protect what’s important to you. So why become **overwhelmingly powerful**?

Henry: Eventually, I happened upon the answer.

Henry: **Those who possess overwhelming power can afford to hold back**.

Leviathan: ...!

Henry: If I am overwhelmingly powerful, I can stop my friends, should they turn to the dark side, without hurting them. I’d be able to do it for their sake, for my own sake, and for everyone’s sake.

Henry: So, don’t worry, Levi.

Henry unsheathes his sword.

 **Something** emerges out of the sheath. Something that makes reality tremble and waver with the power of it. Something that only distantly resembles a broadsword.

Henry: **I will hold back**.

A cloud of arrows descends upon them. Henry sweeps his sword in a circle, and all the arrows are repelled in mid-flight. The demons who fired them are pushed back by the shockwave, their ranks disrupted.

But just at that moment, a shadow falls upon them.

Leviathan: Henry, above — !

Henry strikes upwards, just in time to slice the nets thrown upon them from above.

Leviathan: (Henry is amazing as always. But...)

Leviathan: (...Is it just me, or are his reflexes slower than usual?)

Just as he’s thinking that, Henry holds his sword in front of him vertically, and the ruby on the hilt emits a pulse of light. The light spreads out, turning into a translucent bubble that surrounds Henry and Leviathan, completely shielding them from the Legion.

Leviathan: (This is the protective sphere Henry uses when he’s besieged, in order to buy some time!)

Leviathan: (But why would he use it right now? He was so excited to fight. And we won’t be able to move forward when this sphere is active.)

Henry is frowning.

Henry: Levi, we have a problem.

Leviathan: W-what is it? What happened? You’re not injured, are you?

Henry: Of course not.

Henry is holding an arrow. It’s one of the thousands of arrows that the Legion fired at them just a few moments ago. The tip of the arrow is needle-like.

Leviathan: This arrow looks strange.

Henry: This is a tranquilizer arrow. The soldiers who attacked us don’t intend to harm you. Even though this is just a dream, they only want to capture you, uninjured.

Henry: And that is very, very bad.

Henry: In fact, it's so bad that our mission is **as good as failed**.

Leviathan: ...?!

Leviathan: WHY? They don’t want to hurt us, so they can’t go all out. Isn’t that a good thing...?

Henry lowers his eyes. He seems to be debating something. Finally, he speaks.

Henry: Levi...you know I’m a **fictional** being, right?

Leviathan: Of course I know that. But, Henry, that doesn’t make you any less **real**.

Henry smiles.

Leviathan: You’re a positive influence on my life. In fact, you’re one of the **strongest** influences. And since my life is directly affected by you, that means your existence is real.

Henry: I knew you would understand. Because you acknowledge my power, I was able to come to your aid today.

Henry: However, as a fictional being, I have my restrictions.

Henry: And one of them is this: **my power is directly proportional to the power of the threat**.

Leviathan: ...!

Henry: For this reason, I am able to stand against destruction, and triumph over annihilation. However, I am very weak against kidnapping, hostage taking, and other such less violent means.

Leviathan: (That is true...Henry was never able to prevent a kidnapping before. He’s always failed.)

Leviathan: (Of course, afterwards he always went and saved his friends from captivity, after a long, exciting adventure.)

Leviathan: (But that would take **too long**. We need to send this message as quickly as possible!)

Henry: Oh well. I wasn’t able to help you out with your mission, but this is also satisfying.

Leviathan: ...?!

Leviathan: (What is he planning now...?)

Henry: These demons don’t want to hurt you, but they have no such qualms about hurting me.

Leviathan: ...!!

Leviathan: (Wait. He’s not thinking to — )

Henry: Hopefully, I will be struck down and **bleed to death in your arms**. With some luck, you will be injured by accident, and we’ll **bleed to death in each other’s arms**.

Leviathan: (I KNEW it...!)

Henry sounds more and more cheerful as he goes on.

Henry: All right, Levi. Let’s make **our last stand** here!

Leviathan: Wait, Henry, let’s discuss this first — !

But Henry has already removed the protective bubble.

Leviathan: (This is bad! I don’t want to fail my mission, I don’t want Henry to die because of me, and I don’t want to die myself, even if it’s just a dream!)

Leviathan: (Someone, anyone, help us...!)

The archers around them draw.

Leviathan: **Help us, Ruri-chan!**

A brilliant light shines from above, followed by screams of demons scattering.

Everyone looks up.

Elite Archer: (jaw drop)

Sniper Archer: What...is THAT?

A great crowd is hovering in the air above. They look like civilians, and they’re all holding paper fans.

Then things get stranger. The weird crowd starts singing.

Chorus of Fans: Ruri-Ruri-Ruri-Ruri-Ruri-Ruri, oh!

Chorus of Fans: Ruri-Ruri-Ruri-Ruri-Ruri-Ruri, yeah!

Chorus of Fans: Ruri-chan is joy, Ruri-chan is sorrow. Ruri-chan is death, Ruri-chan is life. Ruri-chan is all, and all is Ruri-chan.

Chorus of Fans: Praise, praise the Many-Faced Goddess. Praise, praise the Queen of our hearts.

Chorus of Fans: The Goddess herself is here. The Queen herself has come.

And then a gentle laughter sounds overhead, like a tinkling of silver bells.

A figure appears in the midst of fans. She is wearing a queen’s crown, a paladin’s cloak, and a mini-skirt. She is gazing down benevolently.

Ruri-chan: Fufufu.

Ruri-chan: Yes, I have come.


	37. Diavolo's Army vs. Ruri-chan

Ruri-chan gazes over Diavolo’s soldiers, who are gaping at her. Her gaze lingers for a second on Henry, who regards her with mixed irritation and respect.

And then her gaze turns upon Leviathan, who is hovering in the kneeling position.

Leviathan: R-R-Ruri-chan! Ruri-chan answered my prayer! Ruri-chan looked at me!

Ruri-chan’s gaze softens, and she smiles.

Ruri-chan: My most faithful follower, I have come to your help in your darkest hour. This is your reward for your lifetime of worship!

Leviathan: Ruri-chan...! I am unworthy!

The Legion General watches the strange happenings with a grim expression.

General: Archers, use combat arrows. Eliminate the dream manifestation overhead.

The archers fire a round at Ruri-chan and her followers.

Leviathan: Ruri-chan!!

With unnerving speed, the fans close their ranks around Ruri-chan. They hold out their paper fans in a manner of shields. The steel combat arrows bounce off the paper fans harmlessly.

The general’s expression darkens further.

Henry: (quietly) Levi, listen to me. When I give a signal, fly directly to the mountain top. I will stay here and stop all pursuers from following you.

Leviathan: Are you going to be all right?

Henry: Not to worry. I am weak against **kidnapping** , but I am excellent at **holding the line**.

General: First and second division, flank Ruri-chan and fire at will. Third and fourth, surround Leviathan.

Both divisions surround Henry and Leviathan so tightly that there seems to be no way out.

Leviathan: I won’t be able to break through the encirclement...! They will stop me, for sure.

Henry: They won’t. Leave it to Ruri-chan.

Up above, Ruri-chan unfolds her own fan. It is black, with skull marks upon it. She covers her mouth with this fan, and lets out a delicate laugh.

Ruri-chan: Fufufu.

Henry: Levi, go! NOW!

Leviathan: All right!

At top speed, Leviathan flies directly toward the encirclement. Up close, the formation of soldiers is like a solid wall. He is about to collide with them head-on. At the edge of his vision, he can see an archer draw and aim at him, almost point-blank.

Ruri-chan: I bestow upon you the gift of **DESPAIR**.

Ruri-chan waves her fan in a gesture of benediction. An invisible, intangible wave sweeps across the battlefield.

Everyone can hear Ruri-chan’s gentle voice. And all who can hear it, feel unutterable despair grip their hearts.

The archer who was about to shoot at Leviathan freezes. Everyone who’s standing in his path freezes. They stand still, as though paralized.

Unhindered, Leviathan weaves through the battle ranks, bypassing the unmoving soldiers like pillars, flying towards the mountain top.

And all the while, Ruri-chan’s voice keeps speaking. Everyone within the vicinity can hear that quiet, gentle voice, as clearly as if it were whispering in their ear.

Ruri-chan: The deepest despair comes from a **crushed hope**. To know the true depth of the fall, you need to climb to the very top.

Ruri-chan: Those who have the hearts to **want** , have the hearts to **suffer**. The deepest despair comes from **a hope betrayed**.

Chorus of Fans: Oh, no! Ruri-chan’s limited edition figurine is all sold out! Woe, woe, woe!

Elite Archer: (What’s going on? I can’t move. My arms and legs are so heavy. What is this unutterable despair? Am I alive, or dead?)

Elite Archer: (Nobody else can move either.)

Elite Archer: (No. There is **one exception**.)

Elite Archer: (Leviathan.)

Elite Archer: (How is he able to move? Despite this paralyzing despair, how is he able to go on?)

Leviathan, weaving between the paralized soldiers: (Oh no, Ruri-chan’s limited edition figurine is all sold out! But I must go on!)

Leviathan: (This is not the first time I feel this way, and this won’t be the last time. I’m already used to it.)

Leviathan: (And besides, there are more important things than material possessions. There is something **more important** I need to do right now.)

Leviathan breaks through the encirclement. He continues on towards the top, his way clear.

Ruri-chan folds her skull-marked fan. The spell of despair is broken.

General: (...This dream manifestation is **bad news**.)

General: All flying divisions, fire at Ruri-chan. **Take her down**.

Ruri-chan’s fans are regrouping with a startling speed and coordination. Half of them shield Ruri-chan from incoming arrows, while another half brandishes heart-shaped bows.

Chorus of Fans: Ruri-Ruri-Ruri-Ruri-Ruri-Ruri, oh!

General: ?!

General: All divisions, shields up!

The general’s command comes too late. Ruri-chan’s fans have already fired. Their arrows penetrate the hearts of demons.

Elite Archer: Ruri-chan... ♥

Sniper Archer: Ruri-chaaaan! ♥

Stout Shield-Bearer: Ruri... ♥

Arrows Carrier: Ruri... ♥

General: Get away from those who were hit! They’ve been indoctrinated!

Elite Archer and Sniper Archer brandish their heart-shaped bows, firing at their own ranks from behind.

Chorus of Fans: Ruri-Ruri-Ruri-Ruri-Ruri-Ruri, yeah!

Within seconds, the battlefield becomes pandemonium.

General: Maintain formation! First division, shields up! Second, push the indoctrinated ones inside, stop them from firing! Third and fourth, go after Leviathan! Fourth division, regroup! Why are civilians better than you at regrouping?

Fourth Lieutenant: (How can you call those abominations _civilians_!)

Chorus of Fans: Ruri-Ruri-Ruri-Ruri-Ruri-Ruri, oh!

First Lieutenant: We’ve lost half of our shields bearers to those enchanted arrows!

Third Lieutenant: Ignore the crowned boss, she is only debuffing, she needs time to recharge! Do something about that tank with the broadsword, he’s holding down two of our divisions on his own!

Second Lieutenant: Ruri-chan... ♥

Chorus of Fans: Ruri-Ruri-Ruri-Ruri-Ruri-Ruri, yeah!

General, speaking into his radio: Sergeant, what in the *BLEEP* are you doing? We’re in deep *BLEEP*. Hurry the *BLEEP* up and find the *BLEEP*ing anchor! *BLEEP*!

Meanwhile, at the base of the mountain, the Legion Sergeant is searching the entire place.

Soldier: Sergeant, we’ve found him!

Sergeant: Lead the way!

The sergeant follows the soldier at a run. They arrive at the gates of the mountains, where a guard is sleeping on the ground. He is soaking wet.

The sergeant stares at the sleeping guard.

Soldier: He’s the only one asleep in the whole area. We couldn’t wake him.

Sergeant: That must be him. He’s the dream’s anchor. He's the one who's dreaming of Leviathan!

Soldier: We’ve tried dousing him in cold water. No effect.

The sergeant hauls up the sleeping guard and slaps him, hard.

Sergeant: **WAKE UP, GUARD! INTRUDER ENTERED THE GATES!**

Sleeping Guard: Mmmph. Leviathan...

Sergeant: That’s right, Leviathan is the intruder! WAKE UP!

Sleeping Guard: I’ll beat you, Leviathan... I’ll take you down... I’ll be number one...

Soldier: (The entire Legion can't take him down, and you think you can? You’re dreaming.)

Sergeant: ( **SLAP — SLAP — SLAP** )

Sleeping Guard: Mmm... I’ll be the GOAT... Once I upgrade my equipment... Mmmph...

Sergeant: It’s no use...! **The master of the dreamscape holds him fast.**

* * *

Meanwhile, in the dreamscape...

Barbatos: Here’s your tea, Young Master.

Diavolo: (sip)

Diavolo: Mm, excellent quality as usual.

Diavolo: I must say, I enjoy this downtime when it’s just the two of us. It’s relaxing. Why don’t we play a round of chess?

Barbatos: If you insist.

A table with chess materializes in front Diavolo, and Barbatos takes a seat opposite him.

Diavolo: You can play White.

Barbatos examines the chessboard.

Barbatos: This is...

Diavolo: Ah, yes. This is the middlegame. I thought it’d be more fun to play a game already in progress.

Barbatos: ...I would say it is far closer to the **endgame**. And White is on the verge of losing.

Diavolo laughs.

Diavolo: Humor me. I want to see if you can turn the game around.

Barbatos: Very well.

Barbatos makes his move.

Diavolo: Oh, excellent! My turn now...

Barbatos: Young Master...Are you sure it’s going to be all right?

Diavolo: You mean Belphegor and Leviathan? Don’t worry about it. Belphegor is busy maintaining the dream. Your presence here is keeping him from doing anything else.

Diavolo: By staying here, you’re buying me time to regain control of myself. Not to mention, you’re keeping me from doing anything drastic, like going directly to the Valley of Ruin. I’m not going to make a move until the situation here is completely secured.

Diavolo: Don't doubt yourself. You’re doing the right thing.

Barbatos: But Leviathan is still on the loose. What if he causes trouble...?

Diavolo: He is alone. What could he possibly do?

Diavolo moves a knight across the chessboard.

Diavolo: Don’t misunderstand me. Leviathan has many strong qualities. But venturing outside alone is not one of them.

Barbatos: (That is true...)

Barbatos: But it's a dream. Anything is possible.

Diavolo: I am only saying this because it's just the two of us...

Diavolo leans forward conspiratorially, and Barbatos leans closer unconsciously.

Diavolo: What sort of **trouble** could one dreaming otaku possibly cause?

* * *

Meanwhile, in the House of Lamentation...

Running out of patience, Diavolo calls the Legion General.

All the demons present here prick up their ears.

The moment the General picks up, there are LOUD, chaotic screams coming out of Diavolo’s D.D.D.

[Diavolo’s D.D.D.: _—reinforcements, we need reinforcements —!_ ]

Diavolo: ...General, what’s going on?

[ _— can’t stop Leviathan — almost to the top of the mountain — unspeakable abominations — need your help —_ ]

Diavolo: What sort of help?

[Diavolo’s D.D.D.: _—the dreamscape — Sloth— wake him up —_ ]

Diavolo: General?

[Diavolo’s D.D.D.: _—Ruri-chaaa —_ ]

The call cuts off.

Diavolo stares at the D.D.D. in his hand, dumbfounded.

Everyone is pretending not to look at him.

Diavolo strides over to Belphegor and crouches down next to him.

Belphegor’s breathing is level and deep in his sleep.

Diavolo: (If waking him up was that easy, I wouldn’t have sent Barbatos.)

Diavolo: (But, very well. I shall try.)

Diavolo takes a deep breath.

Lucifer covers his ears. Satan frees his arms from the confines of the wall, dislodging some broken concrete, and covers his ears. Asmodeus covers his ears. Beelzebub wants to cover his ears too, but he’s bound.

Lucifer, Satan, Asmodeus & Beelzebub: (Here it comes...!)

Diavolo: **WAKE UP, BELPHEGOR!**

The windows in the House of Lamentation shatter. Diavolo’s roar sweeps through the inner courtyard, across RAD, across all the streets, across all the tiers and circles of the entire Devildom. It sweeps across several realities, sending ripples over nearby probabilities and disturbing adjacent eventualities.

But there is no waking up Belphegor.

He is far away, in a prison without walls, robbed of his freedom, steeped in enchanted slumber.

He is dreaming of himself sleeping on the floor in the House of Lamentation, where he is dreaming of himself sleeping under the apple tree in the Celestial Realm, where he is dreaming of himself playing chess with Barbatos.

Diavolo: (How troublesome. This many-layered dream is connected to the **origin**.)

Diavolo: (Why would the **original one** interfere...?)

Diavolo: (...Whatever the reason, now only Barbatos can peel off all the layers of this dream and break his slumber.)

Diavolo’s expression is dark.

Diavolo: (What has delayed Barbatos? Perhaps he needs a little **reminder**.)

Beelzebub: (Ugh...I think my ears are bleeding...)

* * *

Meanwhile, at the Peak of Ambition...

Leviathan can finally see the top of the mountain.

Leviathan: Oh, no!

A small Legion squad has gotten there first. And they have already installed a cannon.

Two bulky grunts are unloading cannonballs out of the crate labelled “DREAMLESS SLEEP SOLUTION. THIS SIDE UP.” Another soldier stands ready to light a fuse.

Leviathan: (They’re going to fire at me! What should I do? Which way to dodge? But what if that cannon covers a large area? Which way? I am so close...!)

Leviathan: I — I don’t know what to do, Ruri-chan!

Ruri-chan: Fufufu.

Leviathan: R-R-Ruri-chan...?! You're here?

Leviathan looks up. Sure enough, Ruri-chan is here, together with a small detachment of her loyal fans.

Ruri-chan: Of course I am here. How could I abandon you in your hour of need, my Champion?

Leviathan: Ch-ch-champion...!

Ruri-chan unfolds a red fan. It’s decorated with images of hearts.

The Legion squad finishes loading the cannon, and they aim at Leviathan.

Ruri-chan: I bestow upon you the gift of **OBSESSION**.

Ruri-chan waves her fan, and an invisible force sweeps across the area. The soldiers, who were about to fire, collapse to their knees.

Taking this chance, Leviathan flies to the very top of the mountain.

Ruri-chan: The deepest obsession comes from a **thwarted desire**. Those who acquire too easily, do not value what they acquire.

Ruri-chan: The heart longs for the unattainable. The deepest obsession comes from the unattainable that is **almost within your reach**.

Small Chorus of Fans: Oh, oh! If I win this raffle, Ruri-chan’s limited D.D.D. cover will be mine! Just one more ticket, just one more!

Leviathan alights on the platform at the top of the Peak of Ambition.

Here, he stand on top of the Devildom.

Far below, the clouds are swirling. Next to him is the loaded cannon, and the three bewitched, kneeling soldiers.

And right in front of him, an immense spiked sphere is floating, rotating, pulsating with dark light.

There is a sign encircling the sphere.

[Sphere sign: **The Peak of Ambition. The only place in the Devildom with 100% Devilnet coverage**.]

Leviathan: **I’ve made it!**

With trembling hands, Leviathan takes out his D.D.D., opens Belphegor’s message, and clicks **send**.

Karasu: Connecting to the Sphere of the Peak of Ambition. Connecting...connecting...

Legion Soldier: Weren’t we supposed to be doing something else right now? No matter, it’s not important. Ruri-chan is right in front of me. I can’t think of anything else. I can’t look away.

Karasu: Connection established. Sending the message.

Legion Grunt #1: She is almost within my reach, yet so far away. I can’t stop thinking of her. Just one more second, let me stay here with you just one more second, the Queen of my heart, my Goddess.

Karasu: The recipient is at the **bottom of the Abyss**. Sending will take longer than usual.

Legion Grunt #2: Leviathan is...looking away from the Goddess. How?

Leviathan: (I want to look at Ruri-chan so much. I want to dream of nothing but her. But I always feel this way. This is no different than usual.)

Leviathan: (And I can't help but think of **someone else**.)

Karasu: Sending...sending...sending....

Leviathan: Oh, **come on**!

* * *

Meanwhile, in the dreamscape...

Diavolo and Barbatos are playing chess peacefully, when their harmony is rudely interrupted.

Diavolo’s Voice: **BARBATOS! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN YOUR ORDERS?**

Diavolo’s false image: Uh-oh.

Barbatos jumps to his feet, overturning the chess table. The chess pieces spill out.

Barbatos: No. Oh, No. I have forgotten my duty. **How could I**?

Diavolo’s Voice: **GET BACK HERE, BARBATOS! AND WAKE BELPHEGOR UP!**

Diavolo’s false image: Oh well.

Diavolo’s false image smirks, transforming into Belphegor.

Belphegor: It’s about time, anyway.

The corridor of mirrors is blown away, like a mirage.

Barbatos and Belphegor are left standing in the field of tall grass, facing each other.

Belphegor: Look at this sun, Barbatos.

Barbatos looks up. Overhead, a huge red sun is hovering. There is something odd about it, as though it’s too big and too unstable for its sky.

An uneasy feeling grips Barbatos.

Belphegor: Hey, Barbatos. Here’s a question to you about the laws of reality.

Belphegor: What’s the probability of surviving on a planet when its sun goes **SUPERNOVA**?

Barbatos: **!!!**

Belphegor smirks.

Belphegor: That’s right. **ZERO**.

Too late, Barbatos activates his future sight. Everything is colored black.

An imminent collapse in time and space.

Very soon, this entire place would turn into a black hole.

Belphegor: You should've checked the future the moment you entered this dream. But you were just too exhausted from overusing your power in the previous dreams, weren't you?

Barbatos: (He's planned this out from the start...! He was going to trap me in a doomed world from the very beginning.)

Barbatos: (I've told Young Master he was **too dangerous to keep alive**.)

Belphegor: **Checkmate**.

Belphegor: You’re not going back, Barbatos. You’re going to die here, in this dream.

Overhead, the red sun is shining innocently.

Belphegor gives Barbatos a completely insane smile.

Belphegor: I have planned this for a long, long time. I have worked towards this moment for a long time. So many sleepless nights, so much **work**. And, in less than five minutes...

Barbatos: (So **soon**?)

Belphegor: Ahahaha! Finally, all my hard work is going to pay off! I’m going to kill you, Barbatos, and then it’s **Diavolo’s turn**!

Barbatos: **Not in this multiverse**.

Barbatos reaches out his hand and peels off this layer of reality.

Behind this layer, there is another one. Belphegor is sleeping under an apple tree.

Barbatos peels off this layer.

Behind that layer, there is one more. Belphegor is sleeping on the floor in the House of Lamentation.

Barbatos: (This is not the **last** one?)

Barbatos peels off this layer too.

Barbatos: **!!!**

He is in the attic, and the human exchange student is looking at him, arms open for a hug, a silly smile on that silly human face.

Barbatos: ...Why am I seeing this?

Quickly, Barbatos peels off this layer of reality.

He is in the attic again. The human exchange student is looking at him again, arms still open, with the same silly smile, and a hopeful expression on that face.

Barbatos: What are you trying to achieve...!

Faster than before, Barbatos peels off this layer of reality.

The same place again. The same human again. Still the same gesture, still the same hopeful expression.

Only the smile looks dimmer, this time.

Barbatos: I don’t want to see this...!

With a sharp jerk, not bothering with precision, Barbatos tears off this layer of reality away. Then another, and another one, until he loses count.

The dream changes. But the content of the dream does not change.

The same human is still there, each and every time, arms still open in the same gesture.

Only the smile is long gone.

But it takes many, many turns before the hope is completely gone from those eyes.

And by the time Barbatos finally gets to the end of all the layers, all expression is gone from those eyes, leaving nothing behind but stubborn, bone-headed determination.

Finally, Barbatos tears off the last obscuring layer.

It's a prison, and Belphegor is sleeping inside the cell, behind the bars.

Barbatos: **BEL-PHE-GOR!**

With a start, Belphegor wakes up and opens his eyes.

Upon seeing Barbatos, he gives a short laugh.

Belphegor: Did you enjoy your little stroll through my dreams? This is something I have to endure **every night**.

Belphegor's eyes flash with pure hatred.

Belphegor: And this is all **thanks to you**. I thought I'd give you **a little taste** of what you subjected me to.

Barbatos: **I will extinguish all of your probable realities, and leave you with no future to choose from!**

The prison bars bend inwards under Barbatos’ rage.

Belphegor: This is **my dream** , and **I** decide what’s real here. You're hopping mad, Barbatos. I say you’d make a good **rabbit**.

Barbatos: What in the...?

Barbatos: ?!

Barbatos: (My EARS! I’m turning into a RABBIT!)

Diavolo’s Voice: **BARBATOS!!**

Belphegor: Hear that? Your master is calling. Better hop back to him like a good bunny that you are. Unless you’d rather stay here and entertain me as a rabbit in my captivity...?

Barbatos: (I can feel the laws of the dreamscape trying to alter my very nature! If I linger another moment, I might really become a rabbit...!)

Barbatos: (TEETH GNASHING)

Barbatos: **This isn’t over**.

Belphegor: **Of course not**.

With a last look full of dark promise, Barbatos turns into a black smoke and disappears from the dream.

* * *

Meanwhile, at the Peak of Ambition...

At the very base of the mountain, the sleeping guard wakes up.

Sergeant: FINALLY! HE WOKE UP! **WE'RE SAVED**!

The soldiers around are cheering.

Woken Guard: Huh? What? Brrr. Why am I so cold? Why am I sitting on the ground? Why am I **wet**?

At the very top of the mountain, Leviathan’s body begins to fade.

Leviathan: I’m disappearing...!

Karasu: Sending...sending...sending...

Leviathan: Does that mean I’m going to fail my mission?

Leviathan: ...

Leviathan: **No**.

Leviathan: This is **my dream** , and **I** decide what’s real here.

Leviathan: I will send this message, even if I have to bend reality. Just like I've done this far.

With his whole heart, Leviathan concentrates on his D.D.D., willing it into permanent existence.

Karasu: Sending...sending...sending...

Leviathan: **This message will be delivered**.

Leviathan carefully places his D.D.D. on the stone platform.

Ruri-chan: You have come a long way, my Champion.

Leviathan: Ruri-chan!

Henry: You’ve done well, Levi. You make me so proud.

Leviathan: Henry!

Leviathan looks at his two dream companions.

Leviathan: Heny, my dream self is about to disappear. I was so thrilled to fight with you side by side. Won’t you fulfil my dream and give me a high-five?

Henry: What are you saying, Levi? You speak as though you’ve never received a high-five before. But in truth, haven’t you received so many already that you lost count...?

Leviathan: ...!

Leviathan: (Is it just me, or does Henry sound a little... **jealous**? No way, I’m imagining this!)

Leviathan: Henry, **please**...!

Henry: Oh well, if you **insist**.

Leviathan and Henry exchange a high-five.

Leviathan: That was **amazing**!

Henry grins. He looks satisfied.

Henry: I guess it wasn’t half bad. Let’s do it again sometime. On a **bigger scale**. With **several armies** involved.

Leviathan’s body has become completely transparent.

Leviathan: Ruri-chan, my dream is coming to an end. I was so ecstatic to see you like this. Won’t you fulfill my daring fantasy and blow me a kiss?

Ruri-chan: You’ve grown quite bold, my Champion. But, even though you speak like you’ve never received a kiss before...Haven’t you, already....

Leviathan: **...!!!**

Ruri-chan: **Fufufu**.

Leviathan: (Is it just me, or does Ruri-chan’s laughter sound a little **dangerous**?)

Ruri-chan raises her hand, as though to blow a kiss, but then hides her mouth behind her fan.

Leviathan: Ruri-chan, you’re such a **tease**! But I adore you even more because of this!

Leviathan’s body is almost completely gone. Only his D.D.D. is as solid as before.

Ruri-chan: If you keep worshiping me like this, perhaps one night I might visit you again in your dreams.

Henry: And remember, my friend. I’m always there if you need me. No matter what time or space, I will always be right beside you.

The dream comes to an end.

Henry, Ruri-chan, and all her flying supporters fade away.

Leviathan’s dream-self fades away.

But Leviathan’s D.D.D. is left behind, lying on the stone platform.

Legion Soldier: Ruri-chan...was she only a dream?

Karasu: Sending...sending...sending...

Legion Grunt #1: What...has happened?

Karasu: Sent.

Legion Grunt #2: What's that sound?

Karasu: **Your message has been delivered**.


	38. The Curse

Solomon: Hold still, let me take a look at you.

Solomon puts on his glasses and scrutinizes me through them.

I call them glasses because that’s the term Solomon himself uses, but they’re really more of a headgear, with many multicolored lenses, which Solomon switches on and off as he continues to study me, an eerie light emanating from his eyes.

A holographic image of myself appears in the air, followed by an image of my skeleton, followed by highlighted images of all my organs, and then rows upon rows of data I don’t understand. Solomon swipes through all the pages at a great speed.

He’s doing a full check, it seems. That might take a while.

Solomon is a little strange. Here’s one example of his strangeness: I nearly demolished his shelf full of crystal balls, but he didn’t say a word about it. And it's not even the first time...

Allow me to explain. Each time I show up here, in his room, I cause a bit of a disturbance. Not on purpose, of course. It just happens.

Last time, there was a little cauldron incident. I wouldn’t go as far as to call it a **wreckage** , but Solomon had to close his room for a while for renovations.

And the time before that, there was a bit of a commotion with escaped preserved frogs. I thought that preserved frogs were not alive and could not move. Solomon says that he thought the same thing. He still finds those frogs in his room from time to time, vigorously leaping about. Personally, I think they're cute. And apparently, they no longer require any food, so what's the harm, right?

Still. There is no way he could be super happy about all of that, because I KNOW he has many rare and valuable ingredients in here that took a while to collect and that he’d rather not put at risk.

After all those times, I’d expect he would ban me from his room, or at least establish some strict guidelines for me to follow while I’m here. For example, assign a chair for me to sit on and not move. Or, more likely, trap me inside a pentagram directly upon arrival.

Not only has he NOT done any of that, but he hasn’t even mentioned the matter to me. It’s like he’s looking forward to seeing what ELSE might happen the next time I visit. How strange is that?

As I contemplate the strangeness of Solomon, another holographic image appears in the air: a golden crystal.

Hold on, I think I’ve seen it before. That’s the nucleus.

A line of text is running under the image. I try to read it in reverse.

[Archangel’s heart confirmed. Matching halo spectrum...]

[Match found: Raphael.]

Solomon sighs.

MC: ...

Well, at least I won’t have to explain what happened. I mean, who would believe that story without seeing a confirmation?

Solomon shakes his head. I feel a sudden urge to explain myself.

MC: I ate Raphael’s heart, but I didn’t mean to. It was an accident.

Solomon: Of course it was. Hold still, I’m not done.

I KNEW that explanation was no good. Good thing I didn’t try that line on Luke first. Isn’t there a more graceful way to phrase it?

I wonder if Solomon feels disgusted by that heart-eating incident?

I peek at his face. I can tell he’s focused on reading the data, but other than concentration, nothing else shows in his eyes.

Of course, that might be because of those, uh, **glasses** obscuring his eyes and half of his face.

An image of golden wings appears in the air. I glance at the running line of text underneath.

[Archangel’s wings confirmed. Matching halo spectrum...]

[Match found: Michael.]

So it WAS Michael. I thought it might be him.

Solomon nods thoughtfully.

Solomon: This is **impressive**.

I perk up. So this is impressive, not disgusting.

MC: Hey, want to see the whole system in action?

He doesn’t reply right away, and I take that as a confirmation.

I spread out my borrowed wings, and celestial fire incinerates my body. This time, it happens instantaneously. I don’t even have the time to feel any discomfort.

I can feel the wings drawing power from the heart.

I flap my golden wings once, to show off. The whole room shakes and trembles.

Uh-oh, am I creating a fire hazard here?

Hurriedly, I fold my wings. The celestial fire goes out. A few seconds pass as the nucleus restores my body to its intact state.

Solomon is staring at me in silence.

MC: Was that too fast? Want me to do it again?

This time, the reply is instantaneous.

Solomon: NO.

Solomon: That was interesting, but don’t do it again. I have already seen everything I wanted to see.

Solomon: No wonder there is such a big commotion happening in the Celestial Realm right now.

MC: Oh? What’s happening?

Solomon: Apparently, Michael lent his wings to someone, but he has no idea who that is.

MC: Oh, y-yeah? How careless of him.

Solomon: Indeed.

Solomon: That, on top of the **broken Scales** incident...

Solomon trails off meaningfully, watching my face.

MC: Ahahaha, a lot of strange things are happening in the world nowadays, r-right?

Solomon: I **knew** it was you.

Satisfied, Solomon returns to his examination.

MC: H-hey, here's your crystal ball. Where should I place it?

I'm still holding the crystal ball in my hand. But I don't dare to approach that shelf again.

Solomon waves his hand.

Solomon: Keep it. It's a time compressor, useful for combat situations. If you break it, it will give you one minute compressed into a single second. Useful for long recitations, and other things.

Very useful indeed.

MC: Thank you.

I pocket the crystal ball carefully. As someone without power, I have to rely on external tools all the time.

Solomon is still absorbed in his examination.

All the holographic images fade, leaving behind only the image of my heart. I can clearly see five brands around my heart: three black, two golden, pulling back and forth against each other.

Solomon is frowning. I read the running holographic line.

[Celestial influence detected. Matching halo spectrum...]

[Searching for match...searching...]

MC: Cassiel and Anselm.

[Match confirmed: Cassiel and Anselm.]

Solomon glances at me over his glasses.

Solomon: Was that Luke’s work?

MC: It was.

Solomon: Hmm.

The running line changes.

[Infernal influence detected. Matching shades spectrum...]

[Searching for match…searching...searching...]

[Search failed. No matches found in the database.]

Solomon: Who was it?

MC: ...What do you mean?

Solomon: Who placed an infernal royal claim upon your heart?

Solomon’s voice sounds clinical and detached, as though he’s asking out of academic curiosity.

I shift uncomfortably. Since he used the word **royal** , I’m not sure how much I can say, with the Royal Decree of Silence in effect.

Solomon: Was it Diavolo?

MC: No!

Solomon: Was it Abaddon?

MC: ...Who’s Abaddon?

Solomon: That’s the name of the current Demon King.

MC: You really know everything.

Solomon: Far from it. And don’t try to change the subject.

MC: ...It wasn’t the King.

Solomon nods.

Solomon: That leaves only one candidate.

He takes off his glasses and the holographic images disappear at once.

Solomon: Nightmare.

Amazing, he **really** knows everything. Even...the King’s name. Maybe, he even knows...

Solomon: I take it you’re in the Valley of Ruin right now?

MC: I am...close by.

Solomon: Where’s Luke?

MC: He’s with me, but unconscious.

Solomon: How long have you been separated?

MC: Maybe for a few hours.

Solomon: That would explain all those influences upon your metaphysical body and your heart. I **told** him not to leave you alone. Especially not during your last night here.

MC: Luke is —

Solomon: All right, I think I get the picture.

Solomon: You must be feeling pretty conflicted right now.

MC: Yeah, I do! What’s up with that?

Solomon: It’s simple. Nightmare placed three infernal paradigms upon your heart, completing a royal claim.

Solomon: Do you know what happens when the Devildom’s royal family claims your heart?

I shake my head.

Solomon: You turn into a demon.

MC: ...?!

MC: So...right now, I am...

Solomon: That’s right. Right now, **you’re turning into a demon**. That’s why you feel out of sorts.

MC: ...

Solomon: Luke placed two celestial paradigms upon your heart in order to counteract infernal influence. Had he been able to complete his work, the paradigms would’ve cancelled each other out, freeing your heart of all external influences.

Solomon: As far as angelic work is concerned, Luke is only a beginner. He’s in over his head with your case. A pup of Judgement can’t handle something so advanced. It would be a challenge even for the Head of Salvation. The reason why Luke was even able to get that far in the first place is due to your unique bond.

Solomon: Luke wasn’t able to finish his work. The third infernal paradigm, the paradigm of self, remains uncounteracted. Luke only managed to slow the claim down. I estimate you have half an hour at most, before you fully become a demon.

My speech returns to me.

MC: What will happen to my soul if I become a demon?

Solomon: Your soul will transform into a demonic core.

MC: So...it won’t be a human soul any longer?

Solomon: That is what I said.

MC: But... that makes no sense. Nightmare wants a human soul! Why would he turn me into a demon, if he can’t get a human soul that way?

Solomon: Evidently, you’re wrong. He doesn’t want a human soul.

Solomon: He wants **you**. Just you. In whichever state or form he is able to get you.

Solomon puts his glasses on again. Another holographic image appears in the air.

I recognize it instantly. It’s a distribution of demonic Sins.

Wait. That’s mine, right? Out of curiosity, which are my top Sins?

I study the diagram closely. First, by far, is Pride. It is followed by Greed, and then Wrath. The other Sins are negligible.

Seriously? Okay, I’ll give you Greed, but Pride? I’m not particularly stuck-up, am I? And what’s up with Wrath? Am I under too much stress lately?

More importantly, where’s Lust? I thought for sure it would be the first.

I debate whether to point out that the diagram is inaccurate, when Solomon speaks.

Solomon: I have good news for you. It’s Pride by a landslide.

MC: Okay, but how is that good news?

Solomon: Should you become a demon, you would fall under Pride domain. It’s a top-tier domain, the innermost circle of the Devildom. You’re going to be a high-ranked demon.

Solomon: Are you pleased? Rank is important to demons.

MC: I’ll admit I’m a little pleased, but I don’t want to turn into a demon.

Solomon: Really? Is that **really** true?

MC: ...What do you mean?

Solomon: If you turn into a demon, you would be able to stay in the Devildom.

My expression turns sour. Is that innermost desire of mine completely transparent to everyone’s eyes? I never even complained about having to leave the Devildom. I’m confident that I didn’t act or look sad either.

MC: Even if I stayed here, what need do they have for one more demon? I was only useful as a human exchange student.

Solomon: If you become a demon under Pride’s domain, Lucifer will definitely take you under his wing. Then you would be able to help him out with his work, and share all of his burdens, just like you’ve always wanted.

MC: ...Are you trying to convince me to become a demon? Whose side are you on, huh?

Solomon smiles.

Solomon: I’m on the neither side, of course. Both Nightmare and Luke are trying to achieve the same thing. They’re just using different methods. Whichever side you pick is up to you.

MC: I’m not interested in helping Lucifer with minor tasks that anyone can do. I want to help him with something major, something he is unable to do himself. He already gave me one such task, and in order to complete it, I must remain a **human** representative.

Solomon: Fair enough...

MC: I don’t want to be a run-of-the-mill demon, one among millions. I want to be someone **without equal**. Only this way I’d be in a position to accomplish extraordinary feats, something no one else is able to accomplish - neither humans, nor demons, nor angels - only me, who stands on the border of the Three Realms.

Solomon: (muttering) ...The Pride transformation has already gone this far, I see.

MC: Since I have no power of my own, being a human in the Devildom is pretty much the only thing I have going for me.

Solomon: ...Or perhaps I spoke too soon. Regardless, Pride is working against itself in order to resist the transformation...It's fascinating.

MC: I need your help, Solomon.

Solomon: ...!

MC: You can help me remain a human, can’t you?

Solomon: ...

MC: Are you going to turn me down again?

Solomon: ...No.

Solomon: This time, I will help you out.

MC: REALLY?

Solomon: You don’t have to sound so surprised. I suppose your reaction is to be expected, but this time, you really are —

MC: That’s awesome! Thank you!

Solomon: Don’t be so happy about it. My help might be more poisonous than the problem itself. And my solution is only temporary.

MC: What are you going to do?

Solomon: I’m going to cast a **dark magic Curse** upon your heart.

MC: Sounds good.

Solomon: **Does** it, now.

MC: Yep.

Solomon: You're not even going to ask what Curse it is?

MC: If you think it’s a workable solution, then that’s good enough for me. Go ahead and do it.

Solomon: Seeing how much you trust others, sooner or later someone might be tempted to take advantage of that trust.

MC: Hey, I don’t trust just anyone. And if your solution works, then you can go ahead and take advantage of me. I’ll consider that a fair price. You should get something for your work, after all.

Solomon: You’re even speaking like a demon now. But such compliance makes things simpler for me. It's easier to cast a Curse when the target is not resisting.

Solomon: Now, don't say any more unnecessary things. Just stand here and subject to my Curse.

MC: Sure, sure. What do you need me to do?

Solomon: Listen to my voice and don’t interrupt. I’m going to say the chant now.

I look at Solomon in silence, demonstrating my cooperation. He starts to recite the words.

Solomon: Physical realm is tangible and transient. Metaphysical realm is intangible and eternal. At the intersection of both lies **human desire**.

Solomon: With every action you take, you answer the question: what do you want to be? With every choice you make, you answer the question: what do you want to want?

Solomon: Thus, both realms interact through **human desire**.

Solomon: With every step you take while pursuing your desire, you redefine your own identity.

Solomon: Therefore, in order to **remain yourself** , there is only one solution. You must —

Solomon: — **Do what you want**.

MC: ...!

Solomon falls silent. He is studying me through his glasses.

Solomon: Do you understand? What is it that you must do?

MC: I must **do what I want**.

Solomon: That’s right.

Solomon: As long as you **do what you want** , you will retain your **human heart**.

MC: That sounds **great**.

Solomon: How do you feel?

MC: I feel really liberated.

Solomon nods. He’s taking notes on his holographic screen with his pencil, but they're an unintelligible shorthand.

Solomon: Very good. The Curse has activated very smoothly. The lack of resistance played a role, no doubt.

MC: But why did you say it’s only a temporary solution? As long as I fulfill the conditions, isn’t it permanent?

Solomon: Because no one can do what they want for long. Unrestrained human desires often go against the norms and laws of society, not to mention against one’s own well-being.

Solomon: It’s called a Curse for a reason. In fact, it’s one of the most efficient ways to kill someone without leaving any traces. Either the person self-destructs, or the society gets rid of the dangerous element.

Solomon keeps taking notes while talking to me.

Solomon: Most people wouldn’t last a year. As for you, I’d say you only have a few hours. Your desires have proven to be too **extreme**. If you can, try to use this time to get Luke to place the third paradigm upon your heart. The Curse will be removed automatically once all the external forces are cancelled out.

Solomon: The Curse should also amplify your chaotic attribute, further giving you an edge against Nightmare. If he was able to predict your actions before, he will no longer be able to do so.

MC: That reminds me. Do you know what Nightmare’s name is?

Solomon: I don’t. I know he has a name, but it’s very recent. He’s shared it with no one, and left no records of it anywhere.

MC: The fact that you know this much is already amazing!

Solomon: Flattery will get you nowhere. All right, let’s test the Curse out.

MC: I’m ready.

Solomon: What do you want the most right now? Go ahead and act upon it. If it’s something too dangerous to yourself, I might have to reconsider this...solution.

I gaze at Solomon as I contemplate his question.

What do I want the most right now?

It’s obvious.

I step forward, reach right through the holographic screen, and grasp Solomon’s hand.

MC: Master!

Solomon: Gwak?

Solomon is gaping at me. Reflexively, he makes a small motion as though to resume his writing. I only clench his hand tighter.

MC: Please take me on as your apprentice!

Solomon: W-what? Huh? WHAT?

What kind of reaction is that? I have mentally prepared for anything, including instant rejection, but why does he look so dumbstruck?

Solomon: **I’M** the subject of your desire?

MC: Who else? You’re here. You’re right next to me.

Solomon: The Curse doesn’t work that way — no, wait, I think for demons it would — but only if — no, the Curse can’t be used on demons — yes, but you’re in transition — wait, what was that about **apprentice**?

Finally, he’s paying attention to my request! I thought he was going to contemplate the nature of the Curse forever. Now, the important thing is not let him get absorbed in his writing again!

I maintain a death grip on his hand.

MC: Master, **I want you to teach me dark magic**.

With his other hand, Solomon takes off his glasses and regards me up close. He has already regained his composure. I can’t tell what he’s thinking from the expression on his face.

Solomon: If I do that, what do I get in return?

That’s not a no. **Excellent**.

MC: Of course, there are many benefits for you.

Solomon: Let’s hear all of them.

Apparently deciding to surrender one hand to me, Solomon moves his pencil to his left hand, and taps the holographic screen, bringing the diagram of Sins once again into view.

I try to capture his left hand too. He evades me and stabs my wrist with the sharp end of his pencil.

OW.

Solomon: Don’t get distracted. Speak.

MC: You’re the one getting distracted! I need you to hear me out, but you’ve started taking notes again!

As I speak, I am outraged to see that he takes a note next to the diagram.

My tone turns accusatory.

MC: You’re thinking about your Curse again, aren’t you?

Solomon: Well, it’s just been cast. I need to make sure it’s working properly, and that there are no undue side-effects. The best way to do it is to observe one of your — **extreme** — desires in action. This is a perfect such example.

Even after I made my offer, he's only focused on the Curse.

A dark suspicion forms in my mind.

MC: Could it be...you already have an apprentice?

Solomon: No, I don’t.

My dark mood dissipates in an instant.

MC: Master, you’re missing out. An apprentice is a useful thing to have. I can help you out with your potion brewing.

Solomon: I'd rather you wouldn't.

...Well, he does have a point. He must be recalling the cauldron incident. He’s never mentioned it before, but, just as I thought, he has NOT forgotten.

MC: I can do many other useful things. I can stress-test your formations, I can collect rare and valuable ingredients for you, I can do simple routine tasks for you, which would save you time, and I can even do boring household chores —

Solomon: Uh-huh. You’ve certainly thought this through.

Solomon nods, taking notes next to the diagram. Encouraged, I continue with my sales-pitch.

MC: I can serve as your test subject, as your secretary, or as your minion —

Solomon: Uh-huh. Do elaborate on the _minion_ part.

Does that mean he’s finally getting interested?

MC: Whatever you want, I’ll do it. I can cook for you, I can help you dispose of the corpses of your enemies, and I can even warm your bed —

Solomon’s pencil breaks with a soft _snap_.

He lets out a long sigh and shakes his head ruefully.

Solomon: See, look what you’ve done now.

He replaces his broken pencil with a new one.

Solomon: I've lost my train of thought completely. Why don't we start over from the beginning again? What were you saying about stress-testing my formations?

MC: Were you even _listening_?

Solomon: Uh-huh.

Solomon has an absent expression on his face as he leaves checkmarks around the diagram of Sins in a circular fashion.

All right, time for my **ultimate secret weapon**.

MC: Want to see exclusive pictures of Lucifer?

Solomon pauses in his writing and glances over at me.

Solomon: Do you truly believe this to be more effective than everything you’ve said so far?

Hmph, who cares what I believe? The evidence speaks for itself. He’s finally looking at me, and all it took was mentioning Lucifer's pictures.

But his distraction is short-lived. The next moment, Solomon returns to his notes.

Solomon: Not bad, this is acceptable. The Curse caused no rejection, which will minimize the side-effects. I was worried about the infernal paradigms reacting, but the circle of Sins is fully integrated with the power of human desire.

Solomon: You’re even tempting me like a demon would. I give you full marks for the effort.

Solomon: Moreover, the chaotic factor is extremely strong. Even I couldn't have predicted your...apprenticeship request.

Solomon: For a moment, you even made me want to reconsider all my plans.

MC: Does that mean you're going to consider my offer?

He doesn’t reply right away.

MC: (Is he thinking about it?)

Solomon: That offer sounds like something you've thought about for a while. Why are you asking me this only now? Why didn’t you say anything before?

MC: How could I? I have no magical ability on my own. I would make one useless apprentice. But now...

MC: Who cares about that stuff now? I can just do what I want. I've always wanted to ask you, but I've been held back by pointless ideas.

MC: I just realized that I've been overthinking it. If you don't want a useless apprentice like me, then you can always refuse.

MC: Of course, I won't allow you to **refuse**. I'm not going to give you a **choice**. Why would I willingly get go of an amazing Master like you? That would make no sense whatsoever.

Solomon: ... **  
**

MC: I’m sure you could teach me dark magic even though I have zero aptitude for it. I’ve seen what you can do, Master.

Solomon: That makes sense — in a demonic sort of reasoning — but why do you want to learn dark magic in the first place?

MC: Because I don’t want to be **the weak link**.

Solomon: ...

MC: You’ve seen what happened, right? I got killed by the weakest demon in the entire Council. That’s too shameful for words. And even though killing any human exchange student would be the same for his purposes, he went after me, and not you, because —

Solomon: ...

MC: — because I’m **the weak link**. I’m the weakest entity in the entire Devildom. I could do nothing at all to protect myself. If this happened during my original reality, and not during this simulation, that’d be the end of it.

MC: **I don’t want to go down in history as a sacrificial lamb who started disaster**.

Solomon: ...

MC: I’ve already tried all external methods, to no effect. So maybe my approach is wrong. Perhaps, instead of trying to change the multiverse, I should've tried to change myself first.

MC: If I could use dark magic to protect myself, none of this would've happened.

Solomon: All right, I understand.

MC: Then...?

Solomon: I’m going to give you a task. If you can complete it, I will consider your offer.

As long as that task doesn’t result in me getting stuck in between time and space, like the task Diavolo assigned me...

MC: Name it.

Solomon: I’ve always wanted to see what the Valley of Ruin is like. Unfortunately, getting inside is quite difficult. And there is no Devilnet reception in the Abyss, so exploring the Valley remotely isn’t possible either.

Solomon: I want you to get a tour of the Valley of Ruin, and post pictures of it on the Devilnet. Bonus points if you can post pictures of Nightmare in his true form.

MC: Consider it done.

Solomon: I’ve always admired your unreasonable confidence. Don’t look at me like that, it was a compliment.

MC: Then, I should get back and get started on that task.

Solomon: Yes, you should.

MC: ...

Solomon: ...

Solomon: Do you think you could **let go of my hand** now?

MC: I don’t know about that. The way you said, "I will consider your offer," it doesn’t sound like you’re going to give me a positive answer.

Solomon: ...

MC: With a weak prospect like that, I just don't feel properly motivated.

Solomon: ...What sort of prospect would **properly motivate** you, then?

MC: How about you **promise** me that if I complete your task with bonus points, you will **definitely** take me on as your apprentice?

Solomon: ...

Solomon: Then, how about this?

Solomon: If you can complete my task with bonus points, AND if you learn Nightmare’s name, THEN I will **definitely** take you on as my apprentice.

Solomon: **I promise.**

Solomon: Sounds good?

MC: Yes. **Perfect**.

Solomon: Try to make sure Nightmare is unaware of my involvement as long as possible.

MC: No need to worry. I didn't mention your name even once.

Solomon: What about the memory suppression?

MC: He thinks that was Simeon's work.

Solomon: Proof enough that he doesn't know anything about Simeon. That angel would never interfere.

Solomon smiles.

Solomon: Faking Simeon's signature really paid off.

_Ribbit, ribbit._

Behind Solomon, a frog leaps off the shelf filled with colorful mushrooms. The frog’s eyes are malicious red.

MC: Uh, about those **frogs**...Have you found out what happened?

Solomon: A spontaneous necromantic ritual. Apparently some of my ingredients shouldn’t come in contact with one another.

MC: Undead frogs? Never would’ve guessed. They're cute.

 _Ribbit_.

Solomon attempts to pull back his captured hand. I tighten my grip in response.

Solomon: ...Are you that reluctant to part with me?

MC: Wait. Let me think. I think I’m forgetting something.

Solomon: I suppose I can’t complain, seeing how I’m the one who cast this Curse, but... can’t you think after you release my hand? I don't see how this could possibly help you think.

MC: Wait. It’s something I’ve always wanted to ask you. Just let me remember what it is.

Solomon: Yet another thing...? I’m not sure I’ve recovered from the current one yet...

MC: Oh yeah!

Solomon jumps.

Solomon: What is it?

MC: Have you ever considered banning me from your room?

Solomon: Is THIS what you wanted to ask?

MC: Answer my question, Master.

Solomon: No, I haven’t. And don't call me Master. I haven't accepted you as my apprentice yet.

MC: Have you ever considered trapping me in a pentagram directly upon arrival?

Solomon: ...What?

Solomon: No. But the more you talk, the more it sounds like an excellent idea.

MC: Should I expect a pentagram next time I visit, then? I need to mentally prepare myself.

Solomon: Even knowing that you’ll be trapped inside a pentagram, you’re still going to visit? I’ve always thought this, but you’re **a little strange**.

Solomon: Now, you better hurry back and open your eyes. I think you’ve just received a message on your D.D.D. Very interesting, considering there is no reception in the Abyss.

MC: Right. Very interesting.

Solomon tugs his hand again, but I have no intention of letting go.

Solomon: **Why** are you still holding my hand...?

MC: I don't know. I just feel like it.

If I had to put it in words, it's just fun to watch the changeable expressions on his face.

Solomon: ...

MC: ...

Solomon: ...

MC: ...

Solomon: ...Actually, I have to leave myself now. Apparently, in the reality you're currently in, Barbatos imprisoned my shadow clone.

MC: **Seriously**? He did that despite having a pact with you? I didn't think it was possible.

Solomon: It's possible temporarily, as long as I'm not paying attention. There are many of those shadow clones who do nothing but imitate my behavior and gather information. I don't keep track of all of them.

MC: (Poor Barbatos has his attention now...)

Solomon: If I don't teach him a lesson, he'll start getting **ideas**. A breach of pact is a serious thing that must have repercussions.

Solomon: ...So, I should get started on that. **Right now**.

Reluctantly, I release his hand.

Instantly, the room fades from view, and I find myself lying on the ledge.

MC: (That was fast. He sure was in a hurry to kick me out this time.)

My D.D.D. is vibrating. I take it out and check it.

Karasu: You have one new message.

It’s from Leviathan.

I open the message.

MC: ...?!


	39. The Royal Summons

Meanwhile, in the House of Lamentation...

Barbatos materializes in the room.

Diavolo: Finally, what took you so —

Diavolo does a double take.

Barbatos looks terrible. He’s disheveled, his clothes are scorched, and his eyes are bloodshot.

And he is seething with suppressed rage. Dark fumes emanate from him, covering him like a cloak.

Everyone else stares at Barbatos, too.

Diavolo: Are you all right?

Without responding, Barbatos takes out a long golden chain and starts roughly wrapping it around Belphegor.

Belphegor: (snicker)

Barbatos is wrapping and wrapping, until Belphegor becomes a chained cocoon much bigger than Beelzebub.

Diavolo: Barbatos?

Barbatos ignores Diavolo and continues his chain wrapping until he’s satisfied.

Diavolo is watching him, alarmed. All eyes are on Barbatos.

Leviathan wakes up with a gasp.

Barbatos takes out a second golden chain and moves towards Leviathan.

Diavolo: Wait. I need to question him about Mammon’s location first.

Diavolo: (And I have other questions for Leviathan as well. What was that message he was trying to send to the Valley? Did he manage to send it?)

Barbatos speaks for the first time since returning to the room. His tone is vicious and curt.

Barbatos: No need. I will remove the current version of Mammon from reality, and replace it with the one which has never left this room.

Diavolo: **...?!**

Barbatos: That will take care of capturing Mammon, Young Master.

The air stirs across the room, like a collective sigh. All the demons shift at once. The atmosphere turns electric with tension.

For the first time, Lucifer raises his head. He meets Diavolo’s eyes.

Diavolo: **BARBATOS**.

Barbatos collapses to his knees. A dark, smoky sigil appears above his head, and chains extend from it down to his hands, feet, and neck.

Diavolo: **Get a hold of yourself, Barbatos**.

Barbatos: ...

Diavolo: **Control yourself**.

Barbatos doesn’t move, but he doesn’t respond either.

Diavolo: **You are forbidden to use your power without my explicit order henceforth**.

The chains restraining Barbatos flare with sapphire light.

Barbatos bows his head.

Belphegor's chained cocoon is shaking with silent laughter.

Diavolo: This is **my fault**. I should have never let you go into the dreamscape on your own. I knew it was Belphegor’s domain, and you would be at a disadvantage.

Barbatos: ...

Diavolo: You’re so capable and efficient that I came to think of you as infallible. I have forgotten that, just like any demon, you have your limits.

Barbatos: ...

Diavolo: You have never failed a task before. Both your manners and your clothes were always so impeccable. Seeing you like this is a shock to me, Barbatos.

Barbatos bows his head lower.

Lucifer: (Is he praising him, or chastising him?)

The other demons are watching grimly as Diavolo is working on the unhinged Barbatos.

Diavolo: You are so flawless in your duty and your loyalty that I tend to forget the difficulties you must face while following my orders. I started to think that nothing was impossible for you, and I asked too much of you.

Diavolo: This is my failure, and for that, I apologize to you.

Diavolo inclines his head.

Barbatos flinches.

Barbatos: No...

His voice is hoarse.

Barbatos: Please don’t say that, Young Master. I failed in my task, I lost control, and I went against your orders. You have nothing to apologize for. Everything is my fault.

Barbatos: I have momentarily taken leave of my senses. This is unpardonable. I am a disgrace. I am deeply ashamed. As soon as the King wakes up, I will report to him for my punishment.

Diavolo relaxes slightly.

Diavolo: There is no need to bring up my Father. He left all matters of your punishment in my hands — although he never believed that it would be necessary, seeing how **perfect** you are —

Barbatos flinches again.

Diavolo: — not to mention, my Father is asleep now, and it might be centuries before he wakes up.

Diavolo leans forward, capturing Barbatos' gaze.

Diavolo: This matter is between you and me. You're indispensable to me, Barbatos. I can't afford to lose you.

Barbatos: I will always serve you faithfully, for as long as you have need of me.

Diavolo: I will always have need of you. So you better be prepared to never leave my side.

Barbatos: Of course, Young Master.

Diavolo clasps his hands together.

Diavolo: As long as we understand each other, I am satisfied. Nothing else needs to be said.

The tension in the room eases.

Lucifer: (Quite impressive. Diavolo dealt with him quickly, despite his current state.)

Keeping a low profile, Leviathan checks his D.D.D. He is surprised to find it back in his pocket.

Leviathan: (Oh, the message WAS delivered! **Good**.)

Quietly, Leviathan deletes the sent message, eliminating all traces of it from his D.D.D.

The sigil and the chains restraining Barbatos dissipate. Diavolo reaches out his hand, helping Barbatos to his feet.

Diavolo: Now that this is settled...

Diavolo turns his gaze to Leviathan.

Leviathan: ...!

But before Diavolo can say another word, his D.D.D. rings.

The ringtone is playing _Elegy for the Moon_.

Diavolo: **...!!!**

Diavolo stills. For a second, he just stands there, thunderstruck.

Then he takes out his D.D.D. and checks the caller ID.

Diavolo: ...

Moving carefully, as though his D.D.D. has become a dangerous object, he clicks the button to answer the call.

Diavolo: Hello, Father.

* * *

Just as I thought, Nightmare has built ledges for me all the way up.

I fly up from ledge to ledge, only pausing briefly to catch my breath, and to let my soul re-anchor in my body. These flights are like jumping from spaceship to spaceship through the vacuum, without wearing a spacesuit. My state alters rapidly between existence and nonexistence as I make my way to the top. Probably, any normal human would find this journey distressing. But I’m already used to this from my excursions beyond time and space.

I carry unconscious Luke in my arms. He never once wakes up, and he looks deathly pale. This is worrying, but at least he’s still breathing.

On the last ledge, there is an actual rope elevator waiting for me. I stuff Luke inside the elevator first, then board it myself. The elevator comes into motion.

It brings us smoothly to the top.

I stumble out of the elevator, dragging Luke out with me.

MC: I’m baaaack!

No one responds. But the red moon greets me with its shine, and my mood lifts.

How wonderful. I thought I’d never feel the moonlight again.

And how nostalgic to see the same demolished statue garden again! But, uh...

What happened to this place?

Everything is covered in snow. Brr, the temperature is pretty low.

No matter, the snow is also wonderful. Everything is wonderful when you're not falling.

MC: This is a **great** place to be.

I sprawl down on the snow next to Luke and spread my arms.

MC: Hehe, I’m gonna make a snow angel!

A shadow falls upon my face.

I look up, and see Nightmare.

MC: ...!

This is Nightmare in his **true form**. I recognize that impressive build, those broad shoulders, that armor, and that full-coverage helmet.

And of course, those magnificent horns and tail.

His face cannot be seen, and even his eyes are not visible.

Nightmare: You seem to be having **fun**.

Nightmare brandishes an enormous halberd.

He looks amazing in the red moonlight. I take out my D.D.D.

Nightmare: **Welcome back**.

The halberd’s blade glimmers in the moonlight as Nightmare brings it down to my neck.

MC: **Wait, Decimus**.

Nightmare becomes perfectly still. Everything becomes still. The world itself seems to be holding its breath. The razor-sharp blade stills a hairsbreadth away from my neck.

What a perfect shot. I align the camera of my D.D.D. and snap Nightmare's picture.

Nightmare: How **—**

Nightmare: **How do you know my name?**

I open the message I received, and turn the screen over for him to see.

Nightmare stares at it. I know what he’s reading.

[Leviathan: Nightmare’s name is Decimus. (according to Belphie)]

MC: I thought Belphie might’ve been mistaken. Or maybe he gave me incorrect information. But it seems he was right.

MC: Is it okay if I call you by this name? **Decimus**.

Nightmare still stares at my D.D.D. without moving.

Nightmare: Belphegor.

Nightmare: Of course.

Nightmare: That explains everything.

Nightmare: I’ve spent some time talking to him, plying him for information. It was easy. So ridiculously easy. His hatred, his guilt, his fixation on the past, his self-deception, everything was transparent to me. Yet, until the end, there remained something I couldn’t see.

Nightmare: It’s like a gap in the picture. Blank canvas, no color. There was something he just wouldn’t reveal, no matter what. I knew he was hiding something. Some hope, perhaps, he was still clinging to. An influence he wouldn’t acknowledge even to himself, but one he was hell-bent on shielding from me, until the end.

Nightmare: An influence that gave him the strength and the motivation to reach into my dreams, find my name, and hide that fact from me.

Nightmare: It was **you**.

Nightmare laughs. He sounds both unhinged and elated.

Nightmare: It turns out that our game began before we even met.

Nightmare: And I was already losing.

MC: Decimus?

Nightmare: Yes?

He is smiling, I can tell from his voice. He withdraws his halberd, which he’s holding effortlessly in one hand.

Decimus: As per our agreement, since you learned my name, I will grant you one wish.

Decimus: So, what is it going to be?

Decimus: Do you wish to leave this place, unharmed? Or do you wish me to spare this angel’s life? Or do you wish to keep your soul?

Decimus: You can have one of those wishes, but not all three.

I gaze at him as I contemplate his question.

Decimus is swinging his halberd, which glimmers sinisterly. He is incredibly strong. I bet he has an amazing body... It's really frustrating that neither his body nor his face can be seen. I wish I could at least see his eyes...No, I want to see more than that. I want to see **everything**.

**Do what you want.**

MC: I want to see you without your armor.

Decimus freezes in the middle of swinging his halberd.

Decimus: **...What?**

MC: No, wait. Let me correct this. I bet you would try to find loopholes in this wish. Yep, you're going to put some other armor on, or maybe wrap yourself in clothes. All right, here's my corrected wish:

MC: I want to see you **au naturel**.

Decimus: **...?!**

MC: And I hope you don't mind if I **take a picture**. It's for my own **private collection**. Just a **memory** I'd like to keep.

For a moment, Decimus is completely speechless.

MC: What's the matter? Just think of it as modelling for an artist. Or maybe for an appreciator. I'm sure you're in perfect shape. You have nothing to be ashamed of.

MC: I'll make sure your picture is very tasteful. And you'll get to have the final word. If you don't like it, we'll keep redoing it until you're satisfied.

He still doesn't speak. Was he completely stunned? Or is he actually considering it?

I can't see his expression, so I have no idea what his reaction is.

MC: I'll make certain...concessions, and let you cover some parts you prefer to keep hidden. As long as it's not your **eyes**.

Decimus takes a deep breath. Then he plants his halberd into the snow. Then he facepalms his helmet.

Decimus: I have a counter-offer for you.

Decimus: I will treat Luke as my honored guest, and guarantee his safety as long as he remains my guest here. I'll do it all under a good will clause, no loopholes. You won't have to worry about him again. Just...

His voice sounds strangled.

Decimus: **Just choose a different wish**.

MC: Siiiigh.

MC: Oh well. I am disappointed, but since you don't want to, it can't be helped. That request was a bit sudden, wasn't it? We haven't known each other for that long, after all.

Decimus: ...

MC: Although, now I want to see you without your armor **even more**.

Decimus: ...

MC: But what wish should I choose instead? That was what I wanted the most...

Decimus: **Anything**...other than that.

MC: All right, there's another thing I want.

Decimus: Give me a moment to brace myself for whatever's coming...

MC: **I want to have a vacation in the Valley of Ruin.**

Decimus: ...Come again? **  
**

MC: I want to have a vacation. Right here.

Decimus: **Here**?

MC: Yes. It’s a great place. Out of the entire Devildom, it's the best vacation spot. The environment changes so quickly and unpredictably, I never get bored. You're the one who makes this place so interesting. I want to see the whole Valley of Ruin, take pictures on my D.D.D., and post them on the Devilnet. And I want you to entertain me while I'm here, and keep me company.

Once again, Decimus is struck speechless. I really wish I could see his face. Maybe he's worried I'll ask for something inappropriate again?

MC: You won't have to do anything special. Just give me a tour of the place.

Decimus: You —

**Caw, caw!**

A black feather drifts from above.

MC: (That's Raven!)

A large crow descends from the sky and alights on the shaft of Decimus’ halberd.

Decimus: ...!

Crow: The King has awoken, and He requests the presence of Avatar of Ruin in His chambers. Immediately. Without delay. NOW.

Decimus: ...Understood. I am on my way.

The crow turns its head and regards me with its beady eyes. I reach out my hand and snatch the fallen Raven.

Crow: Caw!

The crow takes flight again, disappearing in the sky.

Decimus touches his left wrist, then points at the ground. A splash of Prime shoots from his fingertips, and hits the snow. A large, gaping maw opens in that spot.

Wow. Is that... a portal?

Decimus: I am leaving. I must meet with the King.

MC: Wait, what about my vacation? The Valley is boring without you. If you're not here, who's going to entertain me?

Decimus: ...I’ll be back as soon as I am able.

MC: When exactly are you coming back?

Decimus: That depends on what the King has to say.

MC: Don’t let him keep you longer than an **hour**. I want to start my vacation as soon as possible!

Decimus: ...Very well.

Decimus steps towards the portal.

MC: Wait.

Decimus: Is there anything else?

MC: What do you think that summon is about?

Decimus glances up. All the traces of aurora are long gone.

MC: You don’t think...?

Decimus: What else could it be? Michael has the means of waking the King in case of emergency. No doubt it’s about the broken Scales. They must have detected the traces of the wreckage in the Devildom, and now the Celestial Realm wants explanations.

MC: Do you think they will blame the Devildom for what happened?

Decimus: That is certain.

MC: Listen, can you put a positive spin on the Scales incident?

Decimus: ...What are you getting at?

MC: I don’t want any of the Realms to be held responsible for this...little accident. And especially, not the Devildom. I don’t want to cause Diavolo any trouble. You know what I mean?

Decimus: 'Little accident'...

MC: Just say we were stress-testing the Scales, or something. Isn't it a good thing to know its weak spots? If all vulnerabilities are fixed, the Scales would only be improved.

Decimus: You have a demon's way of thinking.

MC: ...If someone has to take responsibility, I’ll do it. Strange things always happen when I’m involved. You can blame it all on me. I won’t be an exchange student for much longer, anyway.

Decimus: I’ll keep that in mind.

He steps towards the portal again.

MC: Wait. About...those golden wings of mine...

Decimus smirks. I can tell, even though he’s wearing his full-coverage helmet, and has his back turned to me.

MC: Unless they ask you about it directly...could you refrain from bringing that up?

Decimus: Michael hasn’t been to the Devildom for the last couple of centuries. Anything regarding his wings, and who he chooses to carelessly lend them to, is the internal affair of the Celestial Realm.

Decimus: I see no reason to mention things that have nothing to do with the Devildom.

MC: Thank you...!

This time, Decimus steps into the portal, uninterrupted. With a squelching sound, the portal swallows him whole, and the maw closes behind him, disappearing without a trace.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the House of Lamentation...

Diavolo finishes the conversation over his D.D.D., hangs up, and turns to Barbatos.

Diavolo: Change of plans. My Father has awoken, and he wants to see me. Immediately.

Everyone: ...!

Diavolo: I’m going to the Abyss to meet him right away.

Barbatos: Did the King happen to mention what the matter is?

Diavolo: He said something about broken scales. I have no idea what he means.

Diavolo: I don’t know how long this meeting will take. I will do my best to return before the morning, no matter what. Barbatos, I leave all the matters here in your hands.

Barbatos: Yes, Young Master.

Diavolo: You already know what to do. Prioritize finding Mammon, he's the unknown factor. Lucifer made contact with him, and likely left him instructions. Right now, Mammon is the most dangerous player.

Diavolo: But don't neglect the others. Neutralize all players. Delay things until morning. Don't let anyone make a move until I return. I trust you to contain the situation here.

Barbatos: As you command.

Diavolo: But remember what I've said. **You're not allowed to use your powers to do it**.

Barbatos bows low.

Diavolo: Oh, and there is another change.

Diavolo: The prison we prepared for Lucifer. Use it for Leviathan instead.

Barbatos: Belphegor —

Diavolo: Forget Belphegor. All he can do is control dreams. If you don’t step into the dreamscape by your own choice, he can't do anything to you. Outside of the dreamscape, Belphegor's personal power as a demon is low. It is Leviathan who possesses an unlimited power to bridge reality and dream with his delusions. He is the real threat.

Leviathan: **...!!**

Belphegor: (muffled snicker)

Leviathan: (...Diavolo is taking me as a serious threat. Even more serious than Lucifer.)

Leviathan: (Of course, he is mistaken. It wasn’t me, it was Ruri-chan and Henry. But...)

Leviathan: (Hee-hee. I can’t help but feel so **flattered**!)

Diavolo touches his left wrist, and points at the door. A splash of Prime shoots from his fingertips, hitting the door. A large, gaping maw opens in the doorway.

Satan: (This is...the portal to the Abyss!)

Satan tenses up, his gaze fixed on the open portal. Abruptly, Barbatos blocks his line of sight. Barbatos is unfolding another golden chain, spinning it in the air menacingly.

Satan: ...

Diavolo steps towards the portal. Then he pauses and glances over his shoulder at Lucifer.

Diavolo: I never thought that Ruin would choose **that** human. I was absolutely certain he would go after Solomon.

Lucifer does not respond. But it seems that this time, Diavolo didn't expect an answer.

Diavolo steps into the portal. With a squelching sound, the portal swallows him whole, and the maw closes behind him, disappearing without a trace.


	40. Playing Catch

Decimus leaves, and I am left alone with Luke.

He still hasn’t woken up. This is starting to worry me.

I sit up, and study Luke’s pallid complexion. He's passed out right after nearly manifesting his wings. And he’s already been in the Abyss for a while. Maybe the problem is that he’s suffering from a **spiritual exhaustion**.

Didn’t Simeon say that Sunberry Milk increases and promotes spiritual recovery?

Where’s my backpack?

I get to my feet and dig around in the snow. Very soon, I stumble upon the backpack filled with glowing bottles. I take one bottle out.

Now, how to feed it to Luke?

I study the glowing bottle dubiously. This drink is mostly Celestial Essence, right? "Sunberry Milk" is just a brand packaging. Let’s do a little experiment...

I open the bottle and pour the contents over Luke’s head.

MC: ...!

With a sizzling sound, the glowing liquid evaporates before it even comes in contact with him.

MC: ...Luke?

No response. A glowing vapor hangs in the air around Luke’s face. After a moment, the vapor seems to draw inside his skin, without leaving a trace.

Any change in his complexion?

I really can’t tell. There seems to be some improvement, but maybe I’m imagining this.

OK, let’s open another bottle.

I repeat the procedure of pouring the Essence on Luke’s head. It's a bit strange, but let’s just think of it as watering a flower.

This time, the vapor is a little slower to draw inside him.

I study his face again. Yes, he definitely looks better.

All right, let’s keep this going.

I open another bottle, and water Luke again.

MC: ...?!

Instead of evaporating, the Essence pours all over his head.

Luke: (SPLUTTER) (COUGH) (GASP)

Luke opens his eyes.

I pause with the bottle held over his head. His eyes meet mine, but he looks away quickly.

Luke: What...are you doing?

As I watch, the glow slowly draws inside him.

Oh, I think I know what happened. It’s like soil saturation. You can’t just keep watering the flower, you have to wait for it to process the water first.

And now that he’s conscious, it’s best to do it the natural way.

I push the unfinished bottle into Luke’s hand, and he grasps it automatically. He’s still avoiding my gaze.

MC: Drink your milk.

Luke: Huh?

Luke: I don’t want to. It’s too cloyingly sweet.

MC: Do you want me to water you again?

Luke: ...Ugh, no.

MC: Then be a good flower and drink it yourself.

Luke: Flower...?

Luke takes a very, very small sip.

I reach out and squeeze the bottle. The Celestial Essence squirts into his nose.

Luke: (SPLUTTER)

MC: Drink, or ELSE.

Luke: I’m drinking, I’m drinking!

Luke takes a big gulp of Sunberry Milk.

I watch him triumphantly.

See, Simeon? It’s THAT simple. This is what you should’ve done to him from the **very beginning**.

MC: Do you know what happened after you passed out?

Luke: Yes. Of course I know. You brought me up. And Nightmare...

Luke: I mean, Decimus. He went to see the King.

Luke takes another big gulp. Some color has returned to his face.

MC: How did Decimus lure you in here anyway?

Luke stares into distance, his gaze turning unfocused.

Luke: I went outside for a bit, to get some air. And then I saw...

Luke: I saw a **most wonderful butterfly**.

Luke: I never saw a butterfly as beautiful as that, not even in the Celestial Realm. Before I knew it, I was chasing it. And then...

Luke: ...I ended up here.

MC: Drink your milk.

Obediently, he takes a gulp. But he still won’t meet my eyes.

MC: Why aren’t you looking at me?

Luke: ...

MC: **Look at me. Tell me who I am.**

Luke: ...

MC: You know what I need from you, right? It's the same as usual. All you need to do is look at me, and tell me who I am.

Luke: I — I can’t.

MC: You can’t.

MC: **I see**.

Luke: Nightmare was right about me. I’m not suitable to be an angel. Because of my carelessness, I became bait. I placed you in danger, and I further failed to help you. You ended up in this situation because of me. Everything I do will only cause you **more harm**.

He takes a deep breath.

Luke: So, I’ve decided. I —

MC: **Hey**.

Luke: ...!

MC: **Isn’t this place great?**

Carefully, Luke takes a peek at my face.

Luke: ...?!

I didn’t mean to frighten him. I am smiling. But even I know that that smile of mine is not a pleasant one.

MC: What do you say we take advantage of the surroundings and play **a little game**?

Luke: What sort of game...?

MC: Remember how we were falling, and you nearly manifested your wings?

Luke: ...!

MC: I’ve thought about what happened, and I think I know what was the catalyst for that. Simeon told me something **interesting** about the manifestation ceremony for mid-ranked angels.

I take a step back.

MC: Apparently, all you need to do in order to grow your wings is to **save a human’s life**.

Luke: ...!

Luke: No, Simeon wouldn’t —!

MC: He wrote it down, and left the note for me to find. That’s as good as telling me.

MC: So...

I take another step back.

Luke: Careful, you’re on the edge of the cliff...!

MC: Let’s play a **game of catch**.

Luke: **...?!**

Luke: **Wait**. What do you want to do?

**Do what you want.**

I spread my arms and gesture at myself.

MC: Here, doggy. **Catch**!

With the last step backward, I topple over the edge.

Faster than I can blink, Luke lunges forward. He manages to grab a hold of my cloak.

But I am already falling, and together, we plunge into the chasm.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the House of Lamentation...

The room is filled with Barbatos’ minions. Barbatos is giving instructions.

Barbatos: Confine Leviathan in the Royal Prison.

Barbatos: Satan and Beelzebub, in the Legion’s Citadel.

Barbatos: Lucifer and Belphegor, in the Demon Lord’s Castle. I’ll keep an eye on them myself.

Belphegor: (muffled snicker)

Barbatos: As for Asmodeus...

Asmodeus: I also want to go to the Demon Lord’s Castle! I want to share a cell with Lucifer!

Barbatos: ...Bring him to the Eternal Keep. They have undead guards there. Let him try his charm on **those**.

Asmodeus: Ugh, Barbatos...!

* * *

Flapping my golden wings, I emerge out of the chasm, and lower Luke onto the snow.

Luke is gasping for breath.

Luke: You’re out of your mind. What if Raphael’s heart runs out of power? What if Michael’s wings break? What if it happens while your body is **destroyed** —

MC: **Very good**. This time, your wings actually **took shape**. And you even maintained them for **nineteen seconds**.

MC: I KNEW this was going to work.

Luke: Are you listening to me...!

I pick up a glowing bottle, and hold it out for him.

MC: Drink your mana potion. Or ELSE.

Luke: (Mana potion...?)

Luke glowers at me, but accepts the bottle, and starts drinking.

Luke: You’re wasting your time. I can’t grow my wings. That temporary shape is all I can do. I have no future as an angel. I’ve tried manifestation on my own before, but always failed.

Luke: Nightmare was right about me. I am **incompetent**. And my heart is too **full of hate**. I am not worthy of ascension.

It seems that after Decimus lured Luke in here, he spoke to him. Probably, not long. Probably, he only said a few words.

The words of the Prince of Demons...

Luke: Don’t look at me like that. He didn’t say anything wrong. Whenever I try the ceremony, I start remembering things. And then I feel...such dark emotions...

MC: That’s it. You’re getting distracted. Instead of focusing on matters of the past, you should be thinking about the present. Think only about me. Look only at me. And **hate only me**.

Luke: I can’t hate you...!

MC: Heheh.

MC: Do you doubt that I can make you hate me?

Luke: ...!

MC: I am in charge of your manifestation. I, and no one else, will decide whether you're worthy or not. If you want to ascend a rank, you've got to get in my good graces.

Luke: Mmmf.

MC: You know how to bribe me, don't you?

MC: **Look at me. Tell me who I am**.

This time, he does look at me. His gaze turns focused and radiant, same as whenever he looks at me.

I wait in silence. And then he begins to speak.

Luke: You are a human, in the process of transforming into a demon.

Luke: You have a human soul still.

Luke: Your heart is torn between the opposing influences, and the Infernal one is winning.

Luke: ...

MC: Go on. Finish it. What’s the proof that your words are true? I want to hear the **proof**.

Luke: ...

MC: You can’t tell me?

MC: So, you’ve really made up your mind. You’re determined to abandon me to my fate.

Luke: I —

MC: If that’s your decision, then just let me fall to the very bottom of the Abyss.

Luke: We’re doing THAT again...?!

MC: Of course. You haven’t grown your wings yet. We’ll keep doing that until Raphael’s heart runs out of power, or Michael’s wings break. Or until you grow your wings. But **no pressure**.

Luke is glaring at me, his brows knitted.

Luke: Are you using your very existence as a tool to **blackmail** me into rank ascension?

MC: **Yes, I am**. Do you hate me yet?

Luke: Mmfrpm.

MC: We can’t stop now. You’re already making progress.

Luke: Mmrtmmfrtm.

MC: Manifestation is like a workout. That’s what Simeon told me!

Luke: You must have misinterpreted his words. Or you blatantly twisted them to serve your own purpose.

I ignore the accurate observation.

MC: Have you had a good rest?

I step towards the cliff.

Luke: Wait, I haven’t finished this bottle yet...!

MC: Drink faster next time. Time’s up.

Luke: ...!!

MC: Here, doggy. Catch!

* * *

Meanwhile, in the Eternal Keep...

A couple of strong zombies are loading barrels off the cart and into the warehouse. A demon with a controlling amulet is supervising them, bored.

Suddenly, the gates to the Keep open, and a flying demon rushes in, wearing the signet of a herald.

Herald: High security prisoner incoming! Only the undead personnel are allowed to attend him! None of the living are permitted to look at him or to talk to him! All living personnel, clear the courtyard, high security prisoner incoming!

The few living demons in the courtyard scatter, leaving only the zombies behind. The supervisor steps backwards, closer to the warehouse’s door.

A black carriage rushes in through the gates, pulled by four racing lower demons.

Herald: Amber alert is declared in the Keep! Attention, amber alert! Perimeter guards, don’t look at the carriage! Seal the gates, activate the perimeter!

With a resounding CLANG, the gates are locked shut behind the carriage. A seal flares upon the gates. The entire wall glows with dark light as the perimeter activates.

Herald: Until further notice, the Keep is on the lockdown. No one is permitted to enter or leave. Eyes down, don’t look at the carriage!

But the supervisor can’t help but look.

The curtains of the carriage are tightly drawn. Despite himself, the supervisor finds his gaze drawn to the swaying curtains.

A slender hand appears in the window. The hand pushes the curtain very slightly to the side.

Supervisor: ...!

Someone peeks out of the carriage, and glances around. For a split second, that gaze lingers on the supervisor.

Supervisor: **...!!!**

From that single fleeting glance, the supervisor feels a strange stirring within his heart. His gaze is fixed on the curtain. But he can't see the high security prisoner's face.

The carriage is moving fast over the bridge, towards the central plaza. It’s almost out of sight...

Without any conscious thought, the supervisor steps forward, after the carriage.

Someone blocks his way, breaking his line of sight.

Herald: What are you doing? Keep out of the courtyard. Eyes down, don’t look at the carriage.

The carriage is gone.

The strange spell is broken.

Supervisor: (What happened to me...?)

Herald: What do you have here? What’s in the barrels?

Supervisor: Power stones, for the rituals. Food, for living personnel.

Herald kicks a few barrels experimentally. They make a **thump**.

Herald opens one of the barrels, finds it full of power stones, plunges his hand in, and rummages inside.

Herald opens another barrel at random, finds it full of live slimes.

Herald: (YUCK.)

Herald: (I'd rather not put my hand in there...Should I use a stick instead?)

Herald: When were these barrels brought in?

Supervisor: About two hours ago.

Herald: (That was long before the high security prisoner’s transfer was decided. These barrels are safe.)

Losing interest, the herald slams the lid shut again.

Herald: Carry on.

Supervisor: I have to do the inventory at the central plaza next. Is that allowed?

Herald: That is fine, but don’t go near the plaza tower. That’s where the high security prisoner will be kept.

The herald takes off, flying off towards the central plaza.

The supervisor counts the barrels, finishes the inventory, and leaves the warehouse, locking the door behind him.

A full minute passes.

There is a WHAM, and the lid of the recently inspected slime barrel flies off.

A demon emerges out of the barrel, covered in goo.

Mammon: UGH! I’m never eatin’ slimes again, EVER.

Mammon attempts to clean himself up, but quickly abandons the hopeless endeavor. Instead, he inspects the warehouse, and finds himself a clean set of robes, as well as a spare warehouse key.

Mammon: Oh, that’s a nice haul.

After changing into a staff necromancer’s outfit, Mammon takes out his D.D.D. and, for the hundredth time, rereads the messages he received.

[Lucifer: Diavolo has the House of Lamentation surrounded. Don’t come back.]

[Lucifer: Find Asmo and release him from confinement. He will know what to do.]

[Lucifer: They will probably place Asmo in the Eternal Keep. There are undead guards there.]

[Lucifer: Infiltrate the Eternal Keep right now, before they bring Asmo in and seal the gates.]

[Lucifer: Be careful, and hide your presence. They’re searching for you.]

[Lucifer: By the time you read this, we’ve all been captured.]

[Lucifer: Now, it’s all up to you.]

Mammon pockets his D.D.D.

Mammon: All right. Time to pay a visit to the plaza tower.

Mammon unlocks the warehouse door with his key, and slinks out.

Outside, the courtyard is empty. Only the shadows of the flying patrols are darting across the stone pavement.

But Mammon’s own shadow can no longer be seen.

* * *

I step out of the elevator and drag Luke out. I leave him on the snow, where he lies, motionless.

MC: **Excellent**. You’re making **rapid progress**. This time, you managed to maintain your wings to the topmost ledge. You even managed to carry me along with you. **Well done**.

There is no response. I pick up a bottle of Essence, and pour it all over Luke.

With a gasp, he sits up and glowers at me. His eyes are blazing with fire.

Luke: Monster. Demon!

MC: Deserter. Traitor!

Luke: I’m not —!

MC: Prove it. **Look at me. Tell me who I am**.

Luke stares at me, and for the first time, I can actually feel the power of his gaze, similar to the transcendent scrutiny I’ve felt before.

Luke: You are a human, on the verge of transforming into a demon.

Luke: You have a human soul still.

Luke: The Infernal Royal Family has your heart within its grasp.

MC: And what is the proof that your words are true?

Luke: Mmhphrm...

Luke: My...my existence is proof!

I lean forward.

MC: Tell me **why**.

Luke: ...!

Luke shakes his head.

MC: No? Do you still deny that you’re a deserter? Do you know that Michael scheduled your manifestation ceremony for the **next week**?

Luke: ...?!

Luke: Simeon never told me...!

MC: Do you dare fail your manifestation ceremony, give up your ascension, lose your angelhood? Do you dare abandon me here alone, without salvation, without hope?

Luke: ...I can’t save anyone. I can’t avenge anyone. I don’t trust myself anymore.

MC: It’s not important, as long as **I** trust you. In all the realities, in the infinite time and space, you’re the only one who can see who I am. Your eyes are the only mirror in this multiverse I trust to show me my true reflection. Without you, I will lose myself.

MC: You think our covenant is so easily broken? It’s too late to change your mind now. Not when we've gone this far.

I step forward, grab the front of Luke’s robes, and haul him to his feet.

MC: If you’re going to abandon me anyway, there is no reason to keep you alive. I’ll drag you down to hell with me!

Luke: Wait, I haven’t drunk yet...!

Holding Luke tightly by his robes, I jump off the cliff.

* * *

Meanwhile, at the bottom of the Abyss, in King’s chambers...

Abaddon is sitting on a throne, his expansive tail coiled all around him, filling the entire chamber.

In front of him, Diavolo is kneeling down on a pillow, with a neutral expression on his face. But despite his outward composure, he can’t stop glancing at the ornamental screen on the left.

Behind that screen, there is another guest. But that guest’s face and shape are too blurry and transient, shifting constantly, and even his voice is just a copy of the attendant’s who just showed him in.

Abaddon is facing the screen.

Abaddon: We've heard that you’ve tried your Eye of the Abyss on a human. How was the Eye’s performance?

Diavolo: (glance)

Diavolo: (You really can’t tell what he looks like at all. But this is the first time I’m in the same room with him. We’re all together in the same room...it’s surreal.)

Diavolo: (Is he really here, or am I imagining this?)

Decimus: Failure. I suspected it might be; the ingredients were garbage to begin with.

Diavolo: (Archangel’s heart and blood are **garbage** , are they...)

Diavolo: (I wonder, when are we going to start discussing the broken Scales?)

Diavolo: (glance)

Diavolo: (He’s definitely here, right? It’s not just a fantasy, or a dream?)

Abaddon: We’ve heard that you’re entertaining guests right now. Are you having fun?

Diavolo: (I knew that the broken Scales were just an excuse. Father just wanted to see him.)

Diavolo: (But why am I here as well? I’m not even allowed to speak.)

Diavolo: (glance)

Diavolo: (Father wouldn’t confuse him for anyone else...He is here. That’s him.)

Decimus: ...Yes, I am.

**Thump, thump.**

Abaddon’s immense tail is thumping, leaving deep cracks in the obsidian-reinforced floor.

Diavolo: (Father is...pleased?)

Decimus: (The King is happy.)

The Demon King is expressing his satisfaction by thumping his tail.

Abaddon: We are glad that you’re finally showing interest in something other than that graveyard of yours. You’re finally having fun and inviting guests over.

Diavolo: (So he’s really started an ancient game. I wonder how far it’s gone. Did the human exchange student find out his **name**?)

Diavolo: (I wonder if that name will be **shared**? Or maybe...Would he now be open to inviting **more guests**?)

Diavolo: (glance)

Diavolo: (That’s him, without a doubt. I recognize the pattern of Prime. It feels so familiar. This must be...the ancestral memory.)

Abaddon: Don’t worry about anything, and do whatever you want. We will handle the cleanup, no matter how many Celestial or Infernal artifacts end up destroyed. Or if you prefer to destroy a city or two, go right ahead. In fact, if you want to go even further...

Diavolo: (Anything further, and Father is going to start a war, just to entertain him.)

Diavolo: (What’s his reaction to that?)

Diavolo: (glance)

Decimus: (The King is definitely tempted to propose a war.)

Decimus: I am fully satisfied with my game. It’s challenging, unpredictable, and rewarding. Until that is done, anything else would only be an interruption.

With some effort, the Demon King stops short of declaring an inter-realm war.

Abaddon: Since We woke up anyway, We’ll stay awake for a little while now. We have insomnia anyway.

**Thump, thump.**

Diavolo: (Father, since when do you have insomnia? What a weak excuse. You just want to see what happens.)

Decimus: (The King is planning to watch my game.)

Diavolo: (Maybe Father hopes to be invited as a guest, too. I know he’s visited the Valley before...Even though **I never had**.)

Decimus: (I wonder if the King wants to be invited as a guest when it’s over? I need to make arrangements, just in case.)

Diavolo: (glance)

Decimus: (Diavolo keeps glancing at me. He’s sitting right in front of the King, and he’s still doing that. Admittedly, the King is not paying him any attention...I wonder why he summoned Diavolo here?)

Decimus: (glance)

Diavolo: ...!

Diavolo: (Did he just...look at me?)

Diavolo: (stare)

**Thump, thump.**

Abaddon: We've heard that you’ve finally tried out the Scales of Judgement. What’s your opinion on the Scales?

Diavolo: (Finally, the topic we’ve gathered for...)

Diavolo: (stare)

Decimus: (Now Diavolo is staring at me openly? I’m not going to use my true form anyway...But I guess there’s no harm in using my own voice. Diavolo is not allowed to speak, anyway.)

Decimus: Passable, but fragile. Too many faulty points.

Diavolo: ...!!

Diavolo: (His voice has just changed...! Is that his true voice?)

Diavolo: (STARE)

Abaddon: We'll bill the Celestial Realm for this impromptu stress testing. You have done very well.

Decimus: The human representative wants a share in the profits.

Diavolo: (STARE)

Abaddon: **Granted**. Diavolo, take note.

Diavolo: ...!

The King is looking at Diavolo for the first time since the meeting started.

Abaddon: Make sure the credit goes where credit’s due.

Diavolo: Yes, Father.

Abaddon turns towards the screen again.

Abaddon: Do you have any requests?

Decimus: I would like to have the Valley connected to the Devilnet.

Diavolo: ...!!

**Thump, thump, thump.**

Abaddon: **Granted**. We’ll have the connection up and running in fifteen minutes. Your D.D.D. will be delivered to you as well.

Decimus: Thank you, my King.

Abaddon: Diavolo, We’ll leave this task to you.

Diavolo: Yes, Father.

Diavolo: (I wonder if he’s going to join the Devilgram? Would it be possible to discover his nickname? Perhaps, if I watch the posts made by the human exchange student...Or should I go right ahead and bug his D.D.D.?)

Diavolo: (STARE)

Decimus: (...He’s going to burn a hole in the screen with that stare. I better check that D.D.D. for bugs the moment I receive it.)

Abaddon: It’s about time you became more sociable. That Association of yours has been begging Us to convince you to join some online group for ages. Devilgram, I think.

Diavolo: ...!

Diavolo: (No doubt Father is talking about the Maar’s Association of Artisans, the most influential secret society in the Devildom. They want him to post on Devilgram? Perhaps, if I track them...)

Decimus: My guests are expecting me back soon. Since you’re awake now, perhaps you’d like to visit me in the morning, my King?

**Thump, thump, thump.**

Abaddon: Go. Entertain your guests. We might come and visit you later, if We have the time.

Decimus: I am looking forward to it, my King.

The shape behind the screen moves away.

Diavolo: Wait...!

The retreating shape doesn’t pause.

Diavolo: What about **me**...?! I want to visit too...!

Diavolo is halfway through rising to his feet, when the King’s voice stops him.

Abaddon: Diavolo, **stay**. We are not done with you yet.

As though paralyzed, Diavolo collapses back onto the pillow.

Abaddon: Since you're here anyway, you may as well give Us your full report about what happened while We slumbered.

Abaddon: Don't leave any details out.

* * *

Luke emerges out of the chasm, flapping his pink wings.

He drops me onto the snow, folds his wings, and collapses next to me as well.

The snow around him is melting, revealing the grass and spring flowers underneath.

I open a bottle and prepare to pour it over him.

Luke snatches it out of my grasp.

Luke: You're always pouring it like that. Can't you be a bit more gentle?

MC: Drink it youself, then.

Luke: I'm drinking, I'm drinking.

He takes a big gulp. Then another one.

Luke: Even if...

Luke: Even if I ascend in rank, and become a winged angel...

Luke: I will still be warped. I won’t be a proper angel. I have broken too many rules, done too much damage, and my perspective is...not suitable.

MC: That’s okay. I am not perfect myself. I don’t mind if my angel is a little warped.

Luke: You don’t mind, but others will.

MC: What do you care about the others? Just focus on making me happy. If you’re loyal to me, I’ll make all your desires come true.

Luke: ...What sort of...desires?

MC: Why don't you tell me what you want?

Luke: Why don't you guess? A proper demon would do it. If you can't guess my desire correctly, how can I trust you to fulfill it?

MC: I am not a proper demon yet, but...Very well.

MC: Do you want to make a career as an **Archangel**? I’ll make sure you will go all the way to the top. If someone like Raphael could do it, you definitely can. For you, it'll be a piece of cake.

Luke: Mmfrmm.

MC: Or perhaps you want to become an **Avatar**? That, too, I can help you accomplish.

Luke: ...I should’ve known that if you were to become a demon, you would fall under the domain of Pride.

MC: Or perhaps...Is there an angel or a demon that you want to have?

Luke: **...!!**

Am I finally getting a reaction?

I wait, but Luke does not respond.

MC: Or do you want to take **revenge**? Just point at the target, I’ll erase it from existence.

Luke: I can tell without looking, Wrath is among your top three Sins.

Well, he's not wrong...

Luke: At this rate, you'll never guess it. Stop tempting me.

He finishes the bottle and sets it aside.

Luke: I’m worn out, anyway. I can’t do this anymore.

Luke lies prone, and closes his eyes.

Of course he can do it. He's just sulking. It seems my offers were no good. Maybe, if I belonged to a different domain, I could've gotten it right...

All right, let’s deploy my **failsafe,** **ultimate secret weapon**.

MC: What to see a picture of Lucifer taking a bath, half-naked?

Luke: ...?!

His eyes fly open.

Luke: Such a picture...could not possibly exist...!

MC: Heheh. **Check this out**.

I open the picture on my D.D.D. and show it to Luke, who sits up bolt upright to take a look.

Luke: ...!!

Luke: ...Why is he wearing clothes while bathing?

MC: Who cares about that? Look, he **took his gloves off**.

Luke: That is true...! I've never seen his bare hands before.

MC: I have other pictures of him without his gloves. Do you want to see them?

Luke: ...

MC: I’ll take that as a yes. If you want to see those pictures, then **finish your manifestation**.

Luke: ...

MC: Once you can summon your wings at will, without an emergency as a catalyst, I’ll show you Lucifer’s pictures.

I wave my D.D.D. under his nose like a bait.

Luke turns his face away from my D.D.D.

Luke: I don’t want to see those pictures **that badly**.

MC: Oh yeah?

MC: Well, I suppose that’s for the best. Some of those pictures are not for a child’s eyes.

Luke: I’m not a **child**...!

MC: If you grow your wings and become a mid-ranked angel, then I guess you would be technically an adolescent. It might be okay to show you those pictures then...

Luke: I’m telling you, I’m already —!

MC: But you **are** an angel. I fear that your angelic virtues might be endangered if you lay your eyes upon those pictures. Especially, that one picture of Lucifer’s sleeping face...

Luke: My angelic virtues are not so weak that they’re going to crumble just from one look at a demon’s sleeping face!

Famous last words.

MC: It’s not just any demon. It’s **Lucifer**.

Luke: Why are you looking at me like that? Sure, I used to admire Lucifer, just like everyone else did, but that was long ago. He’s a demon now!

MC: But, he didn’t become any less beautiful as a demon, did he?

Luke: Mmrfptm.

Luke lunges to his feet.

Luke: Fine. I’ll prove to you the strength of my convictions right now. Show me that picture!

Looks like he’s no longer worn out. On the contrary, he’s become quite energetic...

That’s the power of exclusive Lucifer pictures. **It never fails**.

MC: Very well.

I choose the picture of Lucifer lying in bed, half asleep, glaring at the bright moonlight, and show it to Luke.

Luke: ...

Luke: ..

Luke: .

MC: Luke?

Luke’s eyes are glassy, and his gaze is unfocused.

Okay, that’s enough gazing upon Lucifer.

I remove the D.D.D. from Luke’s line of sight.

A full minute passes before Luke returns to his senses.

His face flushes red, then it drains of all color. I watch the transformations with concern.

MC: Are you all right?

Luke covers his eyes with a groan.

Luke: Why, WHY did I look...?

MC: **Beautiful** , isn’t he?

Luke: Mmmft. Why...

MC: What are you saying?

Luke: WHY do you have such a picture...?!

MC: Heheh.

Luke: Don't you heheh me! Such close association with demons is **dangerous**. How many times do I have to warn you —

MC: Never mind that. How are your angelic virtues?

Luke: ...

Luke: I did not see anything.

MC: What...?

Luke speaks again, in a firmer tone.

Luke: **I did not see anything**.

MC: Oh, okay. Let’s pretend you didn’t see anything.

MC: I have **more** pictures of Lucifer.

Luke: Lalala! I can’t hear you!

MC: Anyway, it looks like you’re fully recovered. What do you say we keep going?

I step towards the cliff.

MC: Huh...?

My feet are not treading on the ground.

I am being lifted into the air!

Luke is glaring at me maliciously. He's unfolded his pink wings, and he's flapping them, emanating air currents that hold me up.

Luke: **Do you think I’ll let you do it again?**

MC: Woah!

An invisible force is spinning me around in a circle!

Luke: If you like **flying** that much, I’ll make sure you get your thrills without jumping into the Abyss.

I am tossed in the air like a rag doll.

MC: Ahahaha! This is **awesome**!

Slowly, I am lowered back down to the ground. The snow has already melted. Only the grass is left, and the blooming delicate flowers.

Before me, Luke hovers several inches above the ground. With those new wings of his, he’s gained a height advantage...

Luke: Are you satisfied now? My manifestation is complete.

He flaps his pink wings pointedly, to show off.

MC: I will be satisfied once I receive your answer.

MC: Look at me. Tell me who I am.

He looks at me then, but this time it feels different. His gaze is not merely watching me. **It is changing me**.

I am pinned in place by the sheer force of his transcendent gaze.

His voice rings with absolute certainty.

Luke: You are a human.

Luke: You have a human soul.

Luke: You have a human heart.

Luke: You're you.

Luke: My existence is proof of that.

MC: Tell me why.

Luke: Because...

Luke: **I am your guardian angel**.

Luke spreads out his wings, and in a single brilliant moment, he transforms into radiant light.

His shape no longer resembles a human. Pure radiance engulfs me, surrounds me, and seeps into my heart.

Within that radiance, I am invincible.

I can feel the bands around my heart breaking, one by one.

Vengeance...hatred...

Guided by that presence, I am returned back to the starting point.

Persistence...sacrifice...

The Infernal Royal claim is dissolved. All influences upon my heart are dissolved.

Under that light shining upon me, I am, at last, myself.


	41. Playing Dirty

Luke and I are resting on the grass near some demolished statues.

Luke: There, see? I finished the last bottle. Ugh, I never want to drink Sunberry Milk again.

I take the empty bottle from him.

MC: How are you feeling?

Luke: If I close my eyes, I can almost see the endless fields of sunberries.

I'm not sure how to interpret that, but I guess he's not suffering from spiritual exhaustion anymore.

I collect all the empty bottles back into my backpack. I'm planning to hand them back to Simeon, as a memento of Luke's successful ascension and a solid proof that a brute force approach is often the most efficient one.

Also, it's quite possible Simeon will have to inventorize them. All export from the Celestial Realm is strictly regulated, especially artifacts and food.

I can definitely see why, seeing how I ended up in illegal possession of Michael's wings. Sooner or later, they will trace the wings incident back to Delegation of Authority, which is recorded under Simeon's name. I know Michael handed over his wings willingly, but I doubt he will remember that. Let's not place Simeon into more trouble than he already is.

I count the bottles.

Luke is frowning, mumbling something under his breath.

MC: What's wrong?

Luke: It's nothing important.

MC: Spit it out. **Right now**. Or do you want me to **question** you?

Luke: No need!

Luke: It's...about my wings.

I tense up. Could it be something is wrong with the manifestation?

MC: Does it hurt anywhere? Do you feel discomfort?

Luke shakes his head.

Luke: It's nothing like that.

Luke: I don't know why my wings are **pink**. Nobody in the Department of Judgement has pink wings.

Such a thing is bothering him?

Luke: I wonder... mrmfm... if the color indicates something...about the change in my...mmmftrm... **virtues**...

...Is he worried that he might become a fallen angel?

I remember his doubts about becoming warped. Is this related to his virtues?

If Simeon was here, I bet he would be able to answer that question. It's frustrating that I can't give an answer when Luke needs it. I know next to nothing about angels.

Well, Simeon is not here. We'll just have to ask him later.

And I admit I was a little surprised too. But as long as Luke has wings, who cares about specific color? Wings are immortality. They mean he's a metaphysical being. Whether heaven or hell, he'll be here. His wings would look great in any color, including pure black. As long as he remains my guardian angel, I don't mind if he becomes fallen. In fact, I would prefer —

I better not say that out loud. I'm sure he already knows, anyway. The last thing we need right now is to let my twisted desires affect him. Then we're definitely not getting out of here.

Anyway, it's not like all angels have white wings. There is at least one example I know who doesn't.

MC: How many angels have pure golden wings?

Luke: ...Only Michael. There are some shades of gold among the others, but nothing that approaches the power of his radiance.

MC: See, it's good to have wings with unusual color. It makes you stand out. You just need to work on the power of your radiance. You have all the makings of an Archangel!

Luke: You still haven't abandoned that idea? I wonder if there are lingering traces of Infernal influence left in your heart...

MC: It's not an influence speaking. It's my own opinion.

Luke: So it seems.

MC: You don't want to be an Archangel?

Luke: ...You know, the one in charge of the manifestation ceremony is usually the one to answer questions.

MC: Oh, really? In that case, ask your questions.

I bet I know what this is about. He wants to know why I have Michael's wings. The curiosity must be eating at him. Wait for it...

In three...two...one...

Luke: How come you have Michael's wings?

See, I knew it.

MC: Because he kindly lent them to me.

Luke: Michael has many virtues. However, he is not best known for his **kindness**.

MC: Oooh, is that a CRITICISM of Michael that I hear?

Luke: ...It's nothing of the sort.

MC: Ascending in rank has had a positive influence on you. You've started to develop your own opinions!

Luke: I've **always** had my own opinions. How did Michael give you his wings? He's in the Celestial Realm right now.

I REALLY don't want to bring up Delegation of Authority and all that it entails. I was hoping to keep my dealings with Simeon a secret from Luke. I don't want to risk damaging their relationship.

MC: ...Decimus still hasn't come back. I wonder what's taking him so long? What if something happened?

Luke: You worry about **him**? Worry about **yourself**. There's no telling what he's going to do once he sees the Royal claim dissolved.

MC: But it's been an hour already. I wonder if something's wrong.

Luke: What could possibly happen to him on the Devildom's territory?

MC: I hope he's not in trouble with the King because of the broken Scales.

Luke: You don't know his relationship with the Demon King. The King **dotes** on him. If anyone, Diavolo would be the one to get in trouble.

MC: But Diavolo didn't do anything.

Luke: Blatant favoritism, typical of demons. What method did Michael use to give you his wings?

It seems there is no distracting him from the subject.

There is nothing else for it. I produce Delegation of Authority and show it to Luke.

He takes it carefully and examines it. Judging by the dark expression on his face, he knows exactly what it is, and everything it entails.

Luke: You should've just put it on me. There was no need to go through all that trouble for the sake of giving me a proper ceremony.

MC: Simeon said —

Luke: He never should've told you anything to begin with, never mind letting you take this artifact. I'll have a **talk** with Simeon when this is over.

MC: It's not just him. I inspected this thing, and I didn't like the idea of putting it on you. The spikes —

Luke: You mean you put yourself through all that in order to spare my **hands**? But it's fine if it's **your** hands, instead?

MC: It's not just the spikes. I didn't like the **inscription**.

Luke: The inscription?

I take the bracelet from him and turn it over, showing the inscription in Celestial script. I read it aloud.

MC: " **Torture** is **elevating**. You will be **destroyed** and replaced with **someone else**. There is no **free lunch** in heaven".

Luke: ...

MC: See, doesn't it sound pretty bad? How could I subject you to this? I'm already used to being destroyed and replaced, it's not a big deal for me. There's no need for you to go through that too.

Luke: ...You're reading it all wrong. It's all because of your low spirituality.

MC: Oh, yeah? You read it then. Show me how it's done!

Luke: All right, I will. Give it here.

Luke clears his throat.

Luke: "Let the dough **rise** before the bread is **baked**. The sugar will be **melted down** and **shaped** into candy canes. In heaven, there is no such thing as **too much chocolate**."

MC: ...

Luke: ...Why are you giving me that look?

I don't want to say it out loud, but I doubt the accuracy of his reading. I don't think a ceremonial artifact would come with what sounds like a bunch of baking instructions.

There is a loud, pained SIGH behind us.

MC and Luke: ...!

We turn around, to find Decimus leaning against one of the wrecked pillars. He is blending almost perfectly with the surroundings. Standing here motionlessly like that, he seems just another statue in this garden.

MC: Welcome back.

Decimus: ...

Decimus turns his gaze upon me, but doesn't say anything.

He must have already seen the Royal claim dissolved. I wonder how he's going to react?

It's hard to tell because of all the armor, but he seems quite composed. Maybe meeting with the King has improved his mood. Or maybe he's already scheming something.

I can't anticipate his next move. I only know he's not going to give up.

Decimus: **I'm back**.

Luke: How long have you been standing here...?

Decimus: This is my home. I come and go whenever I want, and I stand wherever I please. Don't forget that you're a **guest** here.

MC: Any trouble with the King?

Decimus: None at all. More importantly...

Decimus gestures at the golden bracelet in Luke's hands.

Decimus: Both of you are **horrible** at reading Celestial script. I would expect that from a human, but an angel who can't read...

Decimus shakes his head.

Luke: If you're so good at it, then read it yourself! Let us hear **your** version.

Decimus: Gladly.

Decimus extends his hand and takes Delegation of Authority from Luke.

Decimus: This is what it says:

Decimus: "Ascension through harrowing. You will be reforged and remade anew. In heaven, even the short path is not an easy one to take."

Both Luke and I are silent. It seems we both agree that this reading is the closest one to the original.

Decimus hands Delegation of Authority back to me.

Decimus: I only wonder why both of your readings are so much focused on **food**? Are you perhaps hungry?

MC: Now that you mention it...

Decimus: I have no facilities for entertaining guests, but I do have a kitchen.

Luke: I'll cook.

Luke is giving Decimus a challenging stare.

Decimus: Fine with me. I don't know how to feed a human, anyway.

Without a warning, Decimus raises his hand and **takes his helmet off**.

MC and Luke: **...!!!**

Decimus' ashen hair spills over his shoulders. The tips of his hair are rusted vermilion, looking like they've been dipped in blood.

His eyes are amber, with a demonic gradient to vermilion red, to metallic grey, and finally to ashen white.

MC: (His eyes are so **intense**...! He's **beautiful**.)

Decimus meets my eyes, and smiles.

MC: ...!

Luke: ...Is it okay to show us your true face?

Decimus: Both of you have proven your resistance to Ruin.

Decimus: The human representative's personal chaotic factor matches mine. To spend several hours here, and emerge unscathed, with a heart free of Infernal influences, shows a personal power that resists Ruin.

Decimus: As for you, angel...you are the first of your kind to visit this place, spend several hours here, and ascend in rank instead of getting eaten. This shows you are graced with a powerful patronage that resists Ruin.

Decimus: All things considered, there is no harm in showing you my face.

Decimus' version of events is skewed, but still, I got to see his face...! I consider this a suitable compensation for my troubles.

Now, if only I could see the rest of his body...

As though he can read my desire in my eyes, Decimus transforms his armor into a set of form-fitting garments.

MC: ...!!

He really has a great body, just like I thought! He's **ripped**.

MC: (STARE)

Luke: ...Is this truly **necessary**?

Decimus: I am more comfortable this way. I don't typically wear armor outside of combat situations.

His neck is exposed, revealing amber scales covering it.

Decimus notices my gaze and pulls down the collar of his shirt, exposing a portion of his chest.

MC: ...!!!

Luke: ...

The scales continue down to his chest.

Decimus: Much of my body is covered in scales, although not **everything** is covered. But the neck is almost fully protected from bladed weapons. Even if you break through my armor, it's almost impossible to sever my neck, and it's not easy to break it. The fact that Rael chose garrote instead of a blade as an assassination weapon is a testament to his cunning and power, and a credit to him as an ex-demon.

MC: (STARE)

Luke: Stop gawking, you're embarrassing yourself...!

MC: (STARE)

Luke: Ugh, **demons**!

Luke turns to Decimus.

Luke: Don't think I don't know what you're trying to do! You're **playing dirty**. You know this human is... **susceptible**. You KNOW this isn't a method I can use...!

Decimus: You have methods at your disposal that are not available to me, too. Stop complaining and use them. No one is preventing you.

Decimus transforms the helmet he's holding into a long ribbon. With a smooth, practiced movement, he ties his hair up in an elaborate but careless hairstyle, a loose mix between a ponytail and a braid.

A small, glittering amber feather is dangling from one end of the ribbon, slightly resembling a dreamcatcher.

I feel an almost irresistible urge to reach out, capture the feather, and untie the ribbon, so that his ashen hair spills out again, those vermilion tips brushing my hand.

My fingers twitch.

Luke: ...

Decimus smiles. For someone who didn't want to show even a bit of his face, he looks like he's enjoying himself.

Decimus: Actually, my neck is not protected completely. There is some margin between the scales to allow for ease of movement. If you study the pattern of scales carefully, you might be able to find the path of least resistance. A skilled warrior might be able to exploit such a path.

Decimus traces one finger across his neck. My eyes follow his movement.

I can't look away.

Decimus: But, of course...It's hard to find such a path just by looking. It would be easier if you **touch**.

MC: (This is my chance to pet him...!)

I take a step forward —

Luke: That's it. **ENOUGH**!

I feel a breeze on the back of my neck, and then a pair of hands cover my eyes from behind.

MC: ...Luke?

I stop dead in my tracks.

Luke has unfolded his wings, and he's hovering behind me, covering my eyes.

Luke: Don't look anymore!

I can hear Decimus laughing.

Decimus: Well, no matter. Lack of sight leaves more space for imagination.

I can feel Luke tense up, but he does not remove his hands.

Decimus: If someone wants to kill me again, the neck is not the place to go for, anyway. I have reinforced the protection there. But I still have several areas on my body that are not armored. Although no one other than me knows what those are.

There is a wicked lilt in his tone.

Decimus: Perhaps you'd like to try and find them out yourself?

There is a rustle of clothing.

W-what's happening...?!

MC: (GULP)

Luke pulls at my hair sharply.

MC: OW! What was THAT for?

Luke: You KNOW what that's for!

...How did he do it, anyway? Both of his hands are occupied...Don't tell me he's so annoyed that he's biting my hair?

Luke: Nothing is happening! He's just messing with you.

There is a constant warm breeze at my back as Luke's wings are fluttering rapidly. An edge of his wing brushes against my face, momentarily distracting me.

Decimus: Ooh?

Luke: Don't **try** , demon. You won't gain an advantage this way.

Decimus: I already **have**.

There is a smug smile in Decimus' voice.

Luke hisses something under his breath, too low for me to hear. He sounds really on edge...

I should get a grip before the situation becomes dangerous. I can always look at Decimus later, while we eat.

MC: ...I really **am** hungry.

Decimus: Well, then. Shall we proceed to the kitchen?

There's a sound of retreating footsteps.

MC: ...Luke, come on. We're going to the kitchen. I need to see where I'm going. Let me **see**.

Luke: I'll tell you where to go. Turn right.

Seriously?

But apparently, he's quite serious. His voice is firm.

I turn right and start walking.

MC: There's no need to cover my eyes. It's not a big deal. I was just looking.

Luke: That's enough of **just looking**. You've been doing nothing but **ogling** him all this time. It **hurts my eyes** to see you like this.

MC: How can I NOT ogle him? He's **gorgeous**.

Luke: UGH...!

Decimus laughs. He's in a great mood. He's close by, right ahead of us.

MC: I want to see him. I want to take a picture.

Luke: No complaining. Turn right again.

I blink my eyes against Luke's palms.

Luke: ...Don't. That tickles.

MC: (blink — blink — blink)

Luke: ...When you saw Lucifer reveal his true form for the first time, you STARED too. You even forgot that Leviathan was about to attack you. You just stood there and gawked at Lucifer. **Unbelievable**.

Luke: And later, the same gawking repeated itself with Mammon and Diavolo. Right in the middle of the ballroom, too. They were talking, but you weren't even listening. How can you lose track of reality like that whenever there's a **demon** to ogle is beyond me...!

It sounds like he has a lot of complaints he's never mentioned before...

MC: Come on, that's not fair. Have you **seen** Lucifer, Diavolo, and Mammon in their true forms? It's IMPOSSIBLE not to stare.

MC: I bet you were no better than me when you saw Lucifer for the first time!

Luke: Turn left here.

MC: The way is surprisingly smooth. I thought there would be more wreckage to step over.

Luke: Obviously, **he** is clearing your path...

MC: Decimus is **amazing**. If Diavolo knew I was the first one to see him, I wonder if he would be so **jealous** that he would cry.

I can hear Decimus' footsteps falter for a moment.

MC: Diavolo was the first one to get his hands on Lucifer, but I was the first one to see Decimus. The multiverse is fair. This is **payback**.

Luke: I never knew you were holding a grudge against Diavolo for that.

MC: You have NO idea...!

Luke: Turn left here. Anyway, you're forgetting something. **I** was the first one to see Lucifer, even before Diavolo did. And I was the first one to meet Decimus, even before you did. Are you jealous of m —

MC: You are right! If not for you, I never would have met Decimus. You are my lucky charm. No — you are —

Luke: I'm...what?

MC: Luke, you have a **nose** for the best looking demons. You're going to be my **hunting dog**.

Luke: ...You want to do this sort of thing on a regular basis?

MC: Of course! Discovering gorgeous, magnificent demons to admire — this is what life is all about!

Luke groans audibly.

Luke: Your life goals are beyond my comprehension...! (mutter) And WHY are you limiting yourself to demons...?

Decimus: (strangled snicker)

MC: I want to post a picture of us with Decimus on the Devilnet and boast about it! This historical moment MUST be commemorated.

MC: Not to mention, I want to flaunt your new wings!

Luke: Our gracious host would never agree to that. And there's no Devilnet connection here. I already checked.

Decimus: Ah, I almost forgot.

Decimus: The Valley will be connected to the Devilnet in...let's see...

Decimus: In three...two...one...

Decimus: **Now**.


	42. The Great Mammon vs. the Supermax Prison

Meanwhile, in the Eternal Keep...

The gates to the plaza tower are locked with a tremendous double seal.

Outside, to the tower's left and right, there are two identical observation posts. Inside each observation post, a demon is sitting, holding a chronometer. Every five minutes, both demons press a green button, signalling all-quiet. If they're late to press the button, sapphire alert will sound, and Barbatos will be notified.

There is also a red button to sound an alarm. If the red button is pressed, sapphire alert will sound, and Barbatos will be notified.

In addition to those two buttons, there is a keyhole. If both guards insert their own key and turn it simultaneously, the double-sealed gates to the plaza tower will be unlocked.

At the very top of the tower, there is a control room, where a single living overseer is presiding. The overseer is blindfolded. He is issuing orders to the undead personnel inside the tower. At his hands is a large controlling artifact, carved into a bone panel.

Inside, the tower is swarming with undead.

A closed inner gate separates the supermax cells from the rest of the tower. Only the overseer can open that gate.

Past that inner gate, there is a special cell made out of reinforced adamantine, and protected by several layers of seals. Only the overseer can lift those seals.

But there is no physical lock on the cell. No keyhole. The special supermax cell has been fused shut from the outside.

And right now, a zombie shuffles to that special cell, bringing a midnight lunch to the high security prisoner.

Asmodeus: Tee-hee. Come over here, my darling. **Look at me**.

The zombie pushes the lunch box through the slot in the door. At this moment, Asmodeus gets a clear view of its face.

Asmodeus: What the — ? What kind of unspeakable moron REMOVED THAT ZOMBIE'S EYES?

Unperturbed, the eyeless zombie turns around and shuffles away.

In a fit of rage, Asmodeus kicks the door.

Asmodeus: OUCH! Blighted REINFORCED ADAMANTINE! My precious foot! AAARGH!

Pulses of dark power emanate from Asmodeus, but they break against the seals upon his cell like waves against the rocks.

Asmodeus: GET BACK HERE! You stupid eyeless zombie! Come here where I can TOUCH you! Even if you're DEAD and BLIND, I can still —!

While Asmodeus is throwing a fit inside his cell...

Outside of the tower, in the left observation post, the guard presses the green button, signalling all-quiet.

_Jingle, jingle._

Guard: ...?

The guard turns his head towards the sound.

Guard: ...!

Guard: (That's a gold coin...!)

A gold coin is rolling on the ground, away from the observation post.

The guard glances left and right. No one is here. The entire plaza is empty. He has five whole minutes. The coin is almost out of sight...

Guard: (What could possibly happen during five minutes? And besides, there's the second guard...)

Surreptitiously, the guard unlocks the door of his observation post and darts out, chasing after the coin.

He turns round a corner —

— and collides with a white-haired demon who's standing there.

Guard: ...?!

The force of the impact throws the guard backwards, and he collapses to the ground.

The gold coin keeps rolling until it reaches the white-haired demon's polished boot, and stops.

Mammon: Woah, easy there. You okay?

The white-haired demon extends his hand.

Mammon: Here, take my hand. I'll help ya up.

The guard looks up, and meets the white-haired demon's eyes.

Guard: ...!

Mammon's gaze is overflowing with molten gold. It shines so intensely, it's almost blinding.

Guard: (Blink, blink)

The guard takes the proffered hand, and Mammon pulls him to his feet.

Guard: Thanks...

He tries to pull away, but Mammon does not release his hand.

Mammon: Yo, here's your gold coin.

Mammon hands the gold coin to the guard, who hesitates to take it.

Guard: It's not mine. I just saw it on the ground.

Mammon: Ya found it, it's yours. Take it. Finders keepers, losers weepers.

Mammon forces the gold coin into the guard's hands, who accepts it.

Mammon: Saw ya chasin' it. You short on cash?

Guard: ...Who isn't?

Mammon: Right? Everyone's always short on cash. Fortunately, I know many lucrative ways to make lotsa money.

The guard takes a closer look at the white-haired demon.

Mammon doesn't wear those necromancer robes anymore. He's in his human form.

Guard: (He's wearing the latest Versucci jacket, and his sunglasses are some famous brand, too.)

Guard: (Yeah, this guy is **rich**. He must have some **very profitable occupation**.)

Guard: (Also, he's pretty stylish.)

Guard: (And...he's good looking, too.)

Mammon: The whole world could use more money, if ya ask me.

Mammon claps the guard on the back in solidarity.

Mammon: I see you're an honest and trustworthy demon, **just like me**.

Mammon is gripping the guard's hand tightly.

Mammon: **I have a very lucrative business proposal for ya**.

Guard: I dunno about that. I need to get back to my post...

Mammon: How much are they paying ya? I bet this single gold coin is more than you'll earn in a month.

Guard: (I can't deny that, but...)

Guard: If I don't go back soon, I'll be out of job. Then I'll never earn anything again.

Mammon: Hear me out. If ya help me out with this business venture of mine, **you'll never have to work again**.

Guard: ...!

Mammon: Ya can retire early and enjoy your life as a demon, instead of slavin' away for those necromancers who don't even appreciate ya.

Mammon: You help me out, you get a big share of the profits. I'm talkin' **mad money** , man. **Mad cash**.

Mammon: With that amount of cash, you can do anythin', go anywhere. Even to **the human world**.

Guard: (He clearly knows what he's talking about...His clothes aren't cheap. And look at that tan...he must have spent quite some time under the sun.)

Guard: (It's true there are a lot of things I want to do, but after working all this time, I am no closer to getting them...)

Mammon lowers his voice.

Mammon: Imagine that: money flowin' like river, casino every day, sunny beaches, clueless humans flockin' to ya.

Mammon: You can get everythin' ya ever wanted. Everythin' you ever dreamed of.

Mammon: Everythin' you'll never get with that dead-end job.

Guard: (I know I'm not supposed to even listen to that...He's up to no good. This is about **the high security prisoner** , I just know it. But...)

Guard: (This guy is kinda charming. His goofy smile is pleasant, too.)

Guard: (I'll just humor him for a minute. I wonder what he does for a living?)

Guard: (Maybe he'll tell me **how he got that rich**.)

Guard: ...What kind of **business venture** are you talking about?

Mammon: Ya heard 'bout that high security prisoner they brought in?

Guard: (Sure enough...)

Guard: Yeah, that's why I've been stationed here. Rumor is, it's someone really attractive. They don't even want us to look at him.

Mammon: That rumor's right on the money. He's a super attractive one. So attractive that many of his ultra-rich admirers are lookin' to buy him into their sole possession for a **crazy amount of cash**.

Guard: ...

Mammon: Crazy, right? They don't like sharin', those rich people. Too greedy for that, the whole lot of 'em.

Mammon: That's why they brought him in here, ya know. So that they could **auction him off to the highest bidder**.

Mammon: But one of those ultra-rich admirers wants to get a jump on the competition. Ya get me?

Guard: ...You've been sent here by that ultra-rich admirer to capture that prisoner and bring him back, bypassing the auction?

Mammon claps him on the back again, hard.

Mammon: You're a clever one. I knew I liked ya from the start. Clever, honest, and gutsy. You're just my type.

The guard can't help but blush.

Mammon: Instead of wastin' all that money on the auction, why not let it fall into the hands of those who **deserve** it? I'm talkin' about **you and me**.

Guard: (He really **is** charming...And persuasive, too. He makes a lot of sense.)

Guard: I really shouldn't...That's against my orders...

Mammon: What's the point of all that dedication and loyalty if it doesn't pay off?

Mammon: Ya think they're gonna give you a share of the profits after the auction's over? Think again. You're doin' all that hard work for them, but who's gonna thank ya when it's over?

Mammon: And it won't even make a difference, in the end.

Mammon: If you don't take my offer, other rival agents will be comin' here, when a different guard is on shift. Another agent will make this same offer to another guard.

Mammon: One way or 'nother, all that mad money's goin' **somewhere**. Why not to you and me?

Guard: (That is true...)

Mammon: A business opportunity is like a gold coin, rollin' on the ground. If ya don't get it first, someone else will. It won't come to ya on its own, you gotta chase after it. Ya gotta take that risk. It's all about timin' and guts. And **I know you got what it takes**.

Mammon embraces the guard by the shoulders and whispers intimately into his ear.

Mammon: If you let this chance go, you'll regret it for the rest of your life. This is the chance of a lifetime. We're gonna get **filthy rich** , you and I.

Mammon leans so close that his lips almost brush against the guard's ear.

Mammon: **Just open the gates for me, will ya**?

Guard: ...

Guard: (Why not? Am I a demon or what? I'm allowed to make mistakes, aren't I?)

Guard: ...All right.

Guard: I'll do it. I'll help you open the gates.

Mammon grins.

Guard: But it won't be simple. To open the gates, we need the cooperation of the second guard. And I need to stay at my post and press the all-clear button every five minutes. Moreover, once you get inside, there will be inner defenses.

Mammon: Don't ya worry your pretty little head about a thing, **partner**.

The guard blushes again.

Mammon: Just do your part, gimme all the insider details, and leave the rest to me.

Five minutes later...

Both of the guards insert their keys and turn them simultaneously.

With a mighty CLANG, the double seal on the gates is unlocked, and the gates are open.

A shadow darts in through the gates and disappears inside the tower.

Unnoticed by anyone, Mammon moves from shadow to shadow past the undead guards at an incredible speed. He uses the spiral staircase to make his way to the very top of the tower.

At the top of the tower, inside the control room, the blindfolded overseer is moving his hands, getting reports from the undead guards.

_Rustle, rustle, rustle._

Overseer : ...?

_Rustle-rustle-rustle-rustle-rustle!_

Overseer: (What's going on? It sounds like the rustle of falling leaves. But I'm indoors.)

Overseer: (No reports of anything unusual from the guards outside or from the undead inside either...)

Overseer: (I'll just take a quick peek. The top security prisoner is safely locked away in his cell, anyway.)

The overseer shifts his blindfold slightly and peeks out.

Overseer: ...?!

Outside the one-way mirror security screen, Grimm banknotes are raining down.

Overseer: It's raining money...!

With trembling hands, the overseer lifts the screen, and extends his hands.

The heavy banknotes fill his hands.

Overseer: Ahahaha! AHAHAHAHA! SO MUCH MONEY!

A shadow flickers across his vision. It seems like some banknotes were blown inside the room.

But it's not just banknotes. Someone else came in through the opening as well.

A soft voice whispers into the overseer's ear.

Voice: Ya think this is lotsa money? Ya ain't seen nothin' yet.

Five minutes later...

The undead personnel are moved to the unused basement, out of the way.

The inner gate separating the supermax cells is opened.

The seals on the special supermax cell are lifted.

Outside, in each observation post, the tower guards keep pressing the green all-clear buttons. Both of them are clutching a worthless pebble, but they're treating that pebble as a precious gold coin.

At the top of the tower, in the control room, the overseer is cackling madly.

Overseer: Money! SO MUCH MONEY!

In his arms, the overseer is cradling a whole bunch of dirty dry leaves.

In a quarter of an hour, the Great Mammon has taken full control of the plaza tower.

In his cell, Asmodeus flops down on his bed, exhausted.

Asmodeus: (I need to get a grip. I need to come up with a plan.)

Asmodeus: ...

Asmodeus: (My hair is all messed up, my face is all yucky from the dust, and my foot is throbbing.)

Asmodeus: (It looks like I scratched my nail polish, too. When it rains, it pours.)

Asmodeus: (I don't have a mirror...I wonder how I look.)

Asmodeus: (What if...)

Asmodeus: (No.)

Asmodeus: (Even if I'm not in a picture perfect condition, I am still...)

Asmodeus: (...the most beautiful...)

Asmodeus: (...right?)

Asmodeus: ...

Asmodeus: (I don't have the strength to move...can't focus...I need a mirror...)

Asmodeus: (Is this where I perish?)

Asmodeus: ...

Asmodeus: (Hm? What's that sound?)

Asmodeus: (Are those...footsteps?)

Asmodeus: (Too fast for a zombie. That's not shuffling, that's running. Is a living one coming this way?)

Asmodeus: (Wait.)

Asmodeus: (I know those footsteps!)

The quick footsteps stop outside of his cell.

Asmodeus sits up and stares at the door.

Voice: Yo, Asmo.

Asmodeus: (That voice...!)

Voice: Get away from the door.

In one smooth movement, Asmodeus slinks down under the bed, presses himself to the wall, and covers his head with his hands.

There is a crackle of demonic fire, and the smell of smoke. The door is heating up. It is glowing red. It is melting.

BANG.

With a single kick, the door explodes inward, splashing molten adamantine everywhere.

Mammon is standing in the doorway, engulfed in infernal flames.

Asmodeus: Mammon, you IDIOT big brother!

Asmodeus slithers from under the bed, and leaps at Mammon, throwing his arms around him.

Asmodeus: You're good for **something** , after all!


	43. Connected

Mammon: Here you go, Asmo.

Asmodeus: A mirror! And even cosmetics! This is my favorite brand, too! Mammon, you — you're not completely useless!

Mammon: You're just overflowin' with praise lately, ain't ya. Stop it, it's weird when you act like that.

Asmodeus: Oh no, there's a smudge of dirt on my nose! Hold up the mirror for me while I fix it.

Mammon: Sure. Knew you wouldn't last long without a mirror. Dunno what Barbatos was thinkin', leavin' you in a cell without one. Either he forgot, or he's tryin' to demoralize you on purpose.

Asmodeus: As expected, my hair is a mess. And my eyeliner needs to be redone.

Mammon: Don't take too long preenin'. There's a crowd gatherin' outside, and they all can't wait to meet ya.

Asmodeus: **Of course** I would attract a crowd. I'm popular wherever I go. All the more reason to make sure my appearance is **flawless**.

Mammon: The guards opened the tower gates without any authorization. The herald wants answers now, but the guards are insistin' the overseer requested emergency supplies. The herald and the supervisors are debatin' now whether to enter the tower and question the overseer, or just notify Barbatos right away. I reckon we've got ten minutes, tops.

Asmodeus: Everything must be perfect. I must be without flaw.

Mammon: You've redone that eyeliner three times now. And you're even using powder. You never use powder. Ya nervous or somethin'?

Asmodeus' hand pauses for a moment.

Asmodeus: What are you talking about? It's my debut in the Eternal Keep, and I'm getting a bit excited, that's all.

Mammon: Uh-huh. Bet I know what happened. You tried your charm on those eyeless zombies, didn't ya?

Asmodeus stopped applying cosmetics, and he's staring at Mammon.

Asmodeus: What are you getting at? **Out with it**.

Mammon: Your charm didn't work, did it?

Asmodeus: ...

Mammon: So now you're feelin' insecure. You're wonderin', maybe your charm lost power. Maybe your beauty has faded. Maybe you can't charm that big crowd waitin' for you outside.

Mammon: You're afraid to face them.

Asmodeus crushes the powder box in his hand.

Asmodeus: One day, someone will **carve your tongue out** , so that it cannot **speak nonsense** anymore.

Asmodeus: **Afraid** , me? Me, **insecure**?

Asmodeus: I am the **pinnacle of allure**. I am **the most beautiful being** in the Three Realms.

Asmodeus: I'll show you exactly what my power can do. Prepare to be in awe.

Asmodeus puts down the mirror and stands up.

Mammon: Hm? You look like you're back to normal. You feelin' up to it now?

Asmodeus: I am ready.

Mammon: You sure 'bout that? Don't want to put on anymore powder?

Asmodeus: It will only conceal my glowing radiance.

Mammon: Done with your cosmetics routine? Everythin's perfect?

Asmodeus: There's no need to gild the rose. We can't keep my admirers waiting.

Asmodeus: **Let's go**.

Mammon: I've been waitin' for ya to say that.

Mammon picks Asmodeus up and flings him over his shoulder.

Asmodeus: Wha — my HAIRSTYLE! Don't carry me like a sack of potatoes! At least do a princess carry —!

Mammon: Sorry, I need my hands free in case they're gonna shoot at us.

Asmodeus: Mammon, you IDIOT — slow down, my head is spinning — the staircase is NOT that way — are you jumping us out the WINDOW — !

Mammon: Yup. That's the shortest way.

Asmodeus: It's FIFTY floors down — KYAAAAAA!

Down below, the crowd gathered at the tower gates is startled by the loud scream.

Guards: (Oh, the KYAAAAAA is the signal we agreed upon!)

Both guards insert their key and turn it simultaneously.

With a mighty CLANG, the double seal on the gates is unlocked, and the gates swing open.

Instinctively, everyone looks at the gates.

Asmodeus stands there.

Too late, they realize that they're looking directly at him.

Asmodeus pushes his hair out of his eyes, and smiles at the crowd before him.

Asmodeus: **Hello, my lovelies**.

A hush falls over the crowd. As they look upon Asmodeus, something strange is happening. All colors other than him bleed out of the world. Everything other than him fades out.

In the whole world, he is the only entity worth looking at.

Asmodeus scans the crowd, and unmistakably picks out the supervisor he saw when he first entered the Keep in a carriage.

The supervisor is staring at him.

Asmodeus: Tee-hee.

Asmodeus beckons the supervisor to come closer. As though tethered, the supervisor stumbles forward, until he reaches Asmodeus.

Asmodeus: You're a cute one. I thought so from the moment I saw you.

Supervisor: ...

Asmodeus: **Look into my eyes**.

Spellbound, the supervisor stares into Asmodeus' eyes. The moonlight itself is fading, until Asmodeus is the only bright creation left in this whole world.

Asmodeus: I'll allow you to attend me. Aren't you happy?

Supervisor: (nod, nod)

Asmodeus: Prepare a carriage for me. And open the outer gates. I'm going for a ride out of town.

Asmodeus glances at the crowd gathered before him.

Asmodeus: I'm leaving. But there is no need for us to part so soon. All of you lovelies can be my **entourage**.

Asmodeus: How about it? You can gaze upon my beautiful face if you tag along. Do you want to come with me?

The crowd cheers their assent loudly.

Asmodeus: **Of course** you do.

Without warning, Mammon takes flight.

Asmodeus: ...?

Mammon is chasing after someone in the skies!

A flying demon is trying to flee the scene.

Within seconds, Mammon catches up with him, captures him, and drags him back.

Mammon tosses the demon on the ground at Asmodeus' feet.

Herald: UGH...

Asmodeus: Well, well, well. What have we here?

Asmodeus: **I remember you**. You were the one who announced my arrival to the Keep.

Asmodeus: Were you trying to escape and report to Barbatos? Now very **naughty** of you.

The herald squeezes his eyes shut.

Asmodeus chuckles.

Asmodeus: Now, now. No need to be shy. I know you want to look at me. Don't deny yourself.

Asmodeus leans down, and hooks one finger under the herald's chin.

Asmodeus: **Look into my eyes**.

Herald: ...

Unable to resist, the herald opens his eyes and looks at Asmodeus.

Asmodeus is smiling, but there is a cruel twist to that smile, and his eyes are icy cold.

Asmodeus: I am in charge of this Keep now.

Asmodeus: Without my orders, **no one is permitted to enter or leave**.

In less than five minutes, Asmodeus takes full control of the Eternal Keep.

Barbatos' herald is stuffed into the cell Asmodeus has just vacated. The cell is sealed, and the tower is locked.

Mammon and Asmodeus board the carriage, where the ex-supervisor serves as the coach.

Mammon: Asmo, wait. Let's take those two tower guards with us.

Asmodeus: Mm? Isn't it more efficient to leave them behind, so that they can keep signalling the all-quiet? Then it would take Barbatos longer to learn of my escape.

Mammon: They can be replaced with zombies. Isn't that right?

Mammon glances at the ex-supervisor, who is gazing at Asmodeus.

Asmodeus looks at the ex-supervisor as well.

Asmodeus: Can you do it?

Ex-Supervisor: (nod, nod)

Ex-Supervisor: Zombies are very good at repetitive tasks.

Asmodeus: All right, cutie, you get on it.

Ex-Supervisor: (Cutie...!)

Overjoyed, the ex-supervisor hurried off to replace the guards with a couple of fresh zombies.

As a result of the swap, both guards join Asmodeus' entourage.

Asmodeus: But I have to say, I'm surprised, Mammon. Are you feeling responsible for those guards? Worried that Barbatos might take it out on them? Or are you planning to **reward** them?

Mammon: ...It's nothin' like that. I just want to increase the numbers of our force.

Asmodeus: The numbers of **my** force, you mean.

Out of curiosity, Asmodeus glances at the guards.

Asmodeus: ...!

All eyes are on Asmodeus. Everyone outside of the carriage is looking at him. But there is one exception.

The guard #1, the first one Mammon spoke to at the tower, is looking at Mammon.

Asmodeus: Ooh?

Asmodeus: Who are you looking at, darling?

Asmodeus makes a motion as though to step out of the carriage.

Before Asmodeus can fully stand up, however, Mammon grabs his arm and yanks him back.

With an indignant yelp, Asmodeus falls back against the pillows.

Mammon: Time to go.

Asmodeus: ...Fine.

Asmodeus waves his hand, and the procession takes off.

Asmodeus: I was doing you a favor, you know. If he were mine, he could at least enjoy gazing upon my face. There's nothing you can offer him.

Mammon: **We'll see 'bout that.**

Asmodeus: This is the first time you've started to show any interest in recruiting. What changed your mind?

Mammon: It's good to have your own private army, just in case somethin' happens.

Asmodeus: Took you long enough to realize that.

Asmodeus: So, what's the plan?

Mammon: I was hopin' you could tell me that.

Mammon shows Asmodeus Lucifer's messages.

Asmodeus: Lucifer said I would know what to do? But I have no idea what he meant.

Mammon: Ya must know somethin' nobody else does. Think back. Did Lucifer do somethin' that stood out to ya? You're always payin' attention to him.

Asmodeus: It's not that I'm paying special attention to him. It's that Lucifer commands attention, simply by being in the room.

Asmodeus: And he didn't do anything special. In fact, aside from messaging you, he didn't do much at all.

Asmodeus: Oh, but...

Mammon: But?

Asmodeus: He did try to call Solomon. That was the first thing he's done. But Solomon did not pick up.

Mammon: Oh, yeah? Where's Solomon?

Asmodeus: Diavolo said he has Solomon under lock and key. He said Solomon was the first one he neutralized.

Mammon: The **first** again, huh.

Asmodeus: Maybe that's why Solomon did not pick up the call.

Mammon: ...All right, I think I get it.

Mammon: I get what Lucifer was talkin' about.

Asmodeus: Really? Do tell.

Mammon: When Diavolo and Lucifer learned that our human got kidnapped, the first thing they did was contact Solomon. But Lucifer was just a little too late. Diavolo got to Solomon first.

Mammon: Maybe it's because of the life tracker. The life tracker on our human went off, indicatin' mortal danger. That's how Diavolo learned that somethin's wrong.

Asmodeus: ...

Mammon: One way or 'nother, it looks like Solomon is important. He's the key to gettin' our human back.

Asmodeus: I hate to agree with you on anything, but I think you're right.

Mammon: So here's the plan.

Mammon: Step one: we're gonna find where Solomon is held. That's gonna be your job, Asmo. Use your pact with Solomon to track him down.

Asmodeus: I suppose you're right. I am the only one who can do it. No one else would be able to find where he's held.

Mammon: Step two: we're gonna release Solomon from imprisonment. That's your job again, Asmo. Use your entourage to free him.

Asmodeus: ...

Asmodeus: Of course I am better suited than you are for this task, seeing how I'm the most popular, but...

Asmodeus: But why is it my job **again**? I don't like violence.

Mammon: You don't have to look, just give the order. Think how grateful Solomon is gonna be to you for the rescue.

Asmodeus: ...

Asmodeus: From time to time you do say some things that make sense, Mammon.

Mammon nods.

Mammon: Step three: we're gonna talk Solomon into helpin' us. That's the most difficult step.

Asmodeus: You don't say. Getting his **help** for anything is quite an **ordeal**. Unless you can offer him something that's worth his while, he's not going to move a finger. And usually, that price has to involve Lucifer, one way or another.

Asmodeus: And for something as major as this, I can't even imagine what he's going to request.

Asmodeus: I wonder what Lucifer was planning to offer him?

Mammon: Probably, Lucifer was gonna offer him a pact.

Asmodeus: ...!

Mammon: But that's off the table now, seein' how Lucifer is captured, and not available for negotiations.

Mammon: The two of us are the only ones free to move right now. And you're the one who has a pact with Solomon. So...

Asmodeus: (I don't like where this is going...)

Mammon: Convincin' Solomon to help us is gonna be **your job again** , Asmo.

Asmodeus: ...

Mammon: You're the most beautiful, and the most popular. Out of all of us, you have the closest relationship with Solomon. He'll listen to you, for sure.

Asmodeus: ...

Mammon: We're all countin' on you, Asmo. Think about all the attention you're gonna be gettin' during this **ordeal**.

Asmodeus: ...

Mammon: C'mon, stop gnashin' your teeth like that. And don't give me that death glare. You're gonna get wrinkles.

Asmodeus: **Mammon**. You —!

At this moment, a voice sounds overhead, soft and clear, and all sounds quiet except that voice.

Announcer: **Attention, all demons. The King has issued a new Decree.**

Asmodeus and Mammon: ...!!!

Announcer: **By the King's Decree, the Abyss will be connected to the Devilnet henceforth**.

Announcer: **The connection is active now**.

Announcer: **Praise the King!**

At this moment, all the demons in the entire Devildom hear the same announcement, no matter where they are.

Across the Abyss, several immense spiked spheres are floating, rotating, pulsating with dark light. The incredibly expensive Dark Satellites are active all across the Abyss. And the biggest such sphere happens to be right at the door of the Valley of Ruin.

* * *

Meanwhile, at the Demon Lord’s Castle...

Lucifer: Belphie, let me borrow your D.D.D.

Belphegor: I don't think so.

Belphegor: ...!

Belphegor: How many times do you have to steal my D.D.D. before you're satisfied...!

Lucifer: I don't want to borrow it either, but mine is crushed.

Belphegor: **You** are the one who crushed it. How is it **my** fault? Give it back to me. Let me **see**...!

Lucifer: There is nothing yet. But you can look over my shoulder.

Belphegor: Why don't you go back to your own cell? What are you doing in mine?

Lucifer: I can go back, but I'll take your D.D.D. with me. Is that okay with you?

Belphegor: ...

* * *

Meanwhile, at the Legion’s Citadel...

Satan: Beel, let me borrow your D.D.D.

Beelzebub: No. I need it.

Beelzebub: ...!

Beelzebub: **Satan**! GIVE MY D.D.D. BACK.

Satan: You know I can't do that. I need to see the updates, and Diavolo confiscated my D.D.D.

Beelzebub: Then go and complain to Diavolo.

Satan: I will. **Eventually**.

Beelzebub: Why are you even in my cell? The soldiers will notice the hole in the wall, and come to investigate.

Satan: I doubt they will. Despite all the noise, nobody came to investigate. They must be afraid of us. I think we have the whole floor to ourselves.

Beelzebub: Any updates yet?

Satan: Not yet.

* * *

Meanwhile, at an unknown location...

Solomon, who is hovering in the middle of the pentagram, opens his eyes.

Commander and Lieutenant: **...!!!**

Ignoring them both, Solomon extends his hand, and dark light emanates from it, forming a shape.

Commander: Watch out, he's manifesting something!

Lieutenant: Is that a weapon? Will our defenses hold?

Lieutenant: ...Huh?

Commander: It's...a D.D.D.?

Solomon has finished manifesting a D.D.D., and taps on it.

Lieutenant and Commander: ...

Lieutenant : (Is he doing that because of the King's Decree? Is he planning to connect to the Abyss?)

Commander: (It's no use. The pentagram will stop any connection. Right?)

Commander: (RIGHT?)

The D.D.D. in Solomon's hand is shining with a sinister dark light.

Lieutenant: (Is he going to call someone? Someone in the Abyss? Who could it possibly be?)

But Solomon doesn't call anyone. He is merely looking at the D.D.D., apparently waiting for something.

* * *

Meanwhile, inside the swiftly moving carriage...

Asmodeus: Don't do anything stupid. Don't send anything. Don't try to call.

Mammon: I know.

Asmodeus: It was our human who established the connection, without a doubt. One mistake, and Ruin might cut the connection off.

Mammon: I know.

Asmodeus: Wait for it. The update is coming any moment now. Just watch.

Mammon: **I know**.

Asmodeus: Any second. Any second now!

Mammon: I KNOW, ASMO!

 _ding_.

Asmodeus and Mammon: **...!!!**

There is an update on the Devilgram.

A user with a nickname HarmlessHuman has posted a picture.

* * *

I check the picture I just posted on the Devilgram, of the three of us in the demolished statue guarden.

In the center is me, with the same typical, happy-go-lucky, "I just wandered in here by accident but will you LOOK at this place, everything is AWESOME" expression on my face, which I seem unable to eradicate from any of my Devildom pictures. I'm holding up both hands, showing OK sign.

Above me, Luke is perched on a partially wrecked pillar, his pink wings unfolded, his soft light shining upon me protectively.

At the edge of the picture, leaning against a pillar and almost blending with the surroundings, there is Decimus in his true form, wearing his full armor. Somehow he managed to tuck his magnificent tail out of view, but there is no hiding those majestic horns.

All around us are demolished statues, broken sculptures, and other unrecognizable fragments of the former statue garden.

The title under the picture reads:

[Heaven's Judgement Gone Wrong.]

[HarmlessHuman: Apparently the Scales of Judgement were not built to process three mutually exclusive appeals at the same time. The Celestial Realm assures us that the new Scales will not have the same flaw. Although unfortunately many priceless historical works of art were destroyed as a result of that design flaw, we're not blaming the Celestial Realm. The three of us were happy to assist in stress-testing of a Celestial Artifact, and we hope that our contribution will improve the quality of Artifacts across the Three Realms from now on.]

#ValleyofRuin, #Scales, #HistoricalSites, #TrueForm

Within seconds, the picture receives several reactions.

[L3V1: (like)]

[Mammoney: (like)]

[AsmoBaby: (like)]

[Belphie: This is Lucifer. Like.]

[Beelzeburger: This is Satan. Like.]

[LordDiavolo: (like)]

[monSOLO: (like)]

_ding._

I check the incoming message.

[Solomon: Keep the pictures coming.]

[MC: Yes, Master.]

There is no response to that. Does that mean he doesn't mind if I call him Master? That's definitely a positive sign.

All right, let's keep posting.

* * *

[HarmlessHuman has posted a picture on the Devilgram.]

A demon is sitting on a rock. He is fully armored, but his helmet is taken off. His face cannot be seen; the picture is taken from behind. His ashen hair with vermilion tips spills over his shoulders.

An enormous halberd lies across his knees. On the edge of the blade perches a most wonderful butterfly.

The butterfly is immaterial, but glowing with inner light. It's hard to tell what color it is. It seems to contain all colors, and none. One moment, it seems to have a Celestial quality; another, it seems to be made out of Prime.

The demon's thoughtful gaze seems to be directed towards the butterfly.

If you look at the picture closely, you can see an angel's hand reaching towards the butterfly from above.

The title under the picture reads:

[Decimus is contemplating butterfly, while butterfly is contemplating Decimus.]

#TheArtisan, #Lure, #Decimus, #OfficialNameReveal

For several long moments, there are no reactions to the picture at all.

Then, a single reaction appears.

[Decimus: (like)]


	44. Devilgram

Decimus' reaction to the picture is like a permission to break the silence. Everyone starts posting at once.

[Mammoney: Yo, HarmlessHuman. Watch that angel. His fingers are about to come off.]

[Beelzeburger has changed his nickname to stn.]

[stn: I've heard that Ruin is capable of controlling the sharpness of his blade. This must be true, or else this butterfly would've been obliterated on contact.]

[Decimus: stn, you may use my name. I've decided to go public with it.]

[LordDiavolo: Decimus is a great name!!]

[BigTail: You've chosen well, Decimus. This name suits you.]

[Decimus: BigTail, thank you.]

[LordDiavolo: I'm here too! Don't ignore me!!]

[BigTail: LordDiavolo, do not get distracted. You are yet to finish your report to me.]

[Decimus has posted a picture on Devilgram.]

Luke is chasing after the butterfly, his pink wings fluttering. He's flying in circles so fast that he's leaving concentric pink afterimages in the picture.

[Picture title: Chihuahua chasing butterfly.]

#GoldenRatio, #Bait, #AngelsAreEasy, #GuestStatus

[Mammoney: Looks like the Chihuahua survived the previous picture.]

[stn: No doubt his **guest status** has something to do with that.]

[AsmoBaby: Those pink wings are so cute.]

[HarmlessHuman: Cute but troublesome. Previously, if this doggy got lost, I only had to search the world and the underworld in order to find him. Now, I would also have to search the skies. He's gotten even faster, too. I worry about him getting into trouble all the time.]

[Angeluke has posted a picture on Devilgram.]

It's a picture of me petting a lower demon! How did Luke manage to snap it? The angle of the shot is aerial...It's obviously taken from above.

#Reckless, #Worrying, #Dangerous, #TheyAreNotPets

[Picture title: A human petting a lower demon like it's some household pet.]

[Angeluke: Lower demons are wandering around here unrestrained. And HarmlessHuman would casually come up to them and pet them. This redefines **worrying**. I can never relax!]

[Decimus: They are not **unrestrained**. They're part of the scout teams and the perimeter guard.]

[Mammoney: Why would ya wanna pet one of those?! There are far better candidates out there!]

[AsmoBaby: Mammoney, why don't you think before you speak? Decimus is the only high-ranked demon in the Valley right now.]

[L3V1: Great job, Mammoney.]

[stn: Why don't we change the subject?]

[Belphie: Hey, check out this picture.]

[Belphie has posted a picture on Devilgram.]

It's a picture of Barbatos in a disheveled state, covered in dust, with his clothes in disarray.

[Picture title: For posterity.]

#Dreamscape, #D&D, #OneSidedDice, #PerfectButler

[LordDiavolo: (like)]

[ButlerBarb: Young Master, please don't **like** that.]

[Decimus has posted a picture on Devilgram.]

It's a picture of me feeding Sunberry Milk to Luke, while Luke is resisting weakly.

When exactly did Decimus take this picture...?

[Picture title: A human torturing an angel by force-feeding him.]

Before anyone can properly react to this picture, and before I can even come up with an excuse to defend myself, Decimus posts another picture.

It's a picture of Luke spinning me around in the air, using the currents of air created by his new wings, while I have an expression of mixed delight and horror on my face.

[Picture title: After growing his wings, the angel retaliates on the human.]

All right. He's **in for it** now.

[HarmlessHuman has posted a picture on Devilgram.]

It's Decimus in his true form. But he's not wearing his armor.

He is dressed in his form-fitting garments that highlight his ripped body quite well. His demonic attributes, the horns and the tail, are clearly visible here.

He's standing in front of an easel, holding a brush and working on a painting.

The picture is taken from behind, and he's glancing back over his shoulder. His face is in shadow; yet you can clearly see a smudge of paint on his cheek.

His ashen hair is carelessly tied up with a ribbon. At the end of that ribbon, a very eye-catching amber feather is dangling.

[Picture title: The Artisan at Work.]

#Decimus, #TrueForm, #EyeCandy, #MagnificentTail, #MajesticHorns, #AllAroundGorgeous, #Feather, #SoulBait

There is a momentary pause before reactions.

Finally, Asmodeus is the first to respond.

[AsmoBaby: Upon my **name**. Decimus, HOW did you get that BODY...?]

[Belphie has changed his nickname to Lucifer.]

[Lucifer: Serving as a Juggernaut for a few millennia will do that to you.]

[Mammoney: Say, HarmlessHuman. Among all the demons you know, which one would you say has the best-looking horns?]

[Lucifer has changed his nickname to Belphie.]

[Belphie: If we're taking it in that direction, I say we should compare the lengths of our tails.]

[L3V1: Agreed!]

[stn has changed his nickname to Beelzeburger]

[Beelzeburger has changed his nickname to stn]

[stn: All right, let's compare.]

[BigTail: Ahem.]

[L3V1: ...I forfeit.]

[stn: ...Me too.]

[Belphie: ...Never mind then.]

[Lucifer: LordDiavolo is oddly silent.]

[stn: Yes, I thought we'd hear from him by now.]

[LordDiavolo: I. AAWEGWREBRW]

[AsmoBaby: LordDiavolo, what are you even trying to say?]

[LordDiavolo: I. WANT.]

[AsmoBaby: ...LordDiavolo? Are you **all right**?]

[LordDiavolo: I. WANT. THAT. **FEATHER**!]

[AsmoBaby: Are you SURE **that's** what you want...?]

[HarmlessHuman has posted a picture in a comment below.]

It's a picture of the amber feather lying on my palm. The ribbon that was used to tie Decimus' hair is now wrapped securely around my wrist.

[LordDiavolo: !!!]

I post a picture of my hand, clenched tight around the feather.

[HarmlessHuman: Heheh.]

[LordDiavolo: AAAAGRRAAWBRBEGNAAAA]


	45. The Feather

While Decimus is working on that painting, I am scrutinizing him. I am on a mission to determine the details of his appearance.

This is harder than it looks.

I mean, it's hard to concentrate on the details. His whole presence has such an impact that the details escape me.

What's more...he's always changing.

Right now, as I'm watching him, focused on his work, his whole quality is bright and intense. Under the red moonlight, his scales are amber and his skin is light bronze. I can almost see the Prime swirling around him, like heat emanating from a furnace.

But...here it comes...

A cloud passes over the moon. The red moonlight fades, the soft lanterns taking over.

And Decimus' whole aspect is cast into shadow.

His amber scales morph into dark sapphire. His skin turns metallic grey, like he's completely covered with a thin layer of adamantine armor. The Prime swirling around him intensifies, and becomes truly visible. Now I can see the blue sapphire flames dancing on his arms.

Even his hair changes color, those vermilion tips turning starlight-blue, with a mysterious, soft shine.

His presence turns more subtle, more subdued.

More menacing.

And only the amber feather dangling from his hair is still burning as bright as before.

...Yes, I had to return the ribbon to him. He complained that his hair got into his eyes without it. I thought it was a baseless complaint, since he can turn any random blade of grass into a ribbon, but he said this ribbon shares qualities with his helmet and thus has special powers. I can't very well keep something so valuable, but...

I wanted to at least keep the feather.

Decimus: You're watching the feather again. I didn't expect you'd be so attracted to it.

MC: Is that an angel's feather?

Decimus: No. I made it, just like that butterfly. Part of it is Essence, part is Prime; the golden ratio. It appeals to those who are attracted to the aesthetic of contradictions and duality. I speculated a human might find it interesting. It's merely a hair decoration.

MC: **I want it**.

Decimus: If you want it that much, I'll give it to you in exchange for **your soul**.

MC: ...

Decimus: ...You are actually considering it, aren't you?

Decimus: **Unbelievable**.

MC: Your lures are **too good**.

He inclines his head, accepting the compliment, and the feather sways gently.

I will have that feather one day, for sure. I can still remember what it felt like to touch it.

The cloud moves past, and Decimus is flooded with red moonlight.

His whole aspect changes again, alight with a warm glow.

Fascinating.

Suddenly, Decimus looks directly at me, searing me with his intense amber gaze.

Decimus: You and Diavolo really are similar.

...I just heard something **really** strange. In what way am I similar to Diavolo?

I mean, other than our shared appreciation for good-looking demons...and our competitive collector tendencies...and, I suppose, our peculiar definition of **fun**...

Decimus: Both of you tend to STARE at me like that. If you keep this up, you're going to burn a hole in me with your gaze.

MC: I'm just trying to observe all of your aspects. You...keep changing.

Decimus moves his shoulders. He seems embarrassed.

Decimus: I can't help it. I am a born infiltrator. Mimicry is my passive ability, so in order to control it, I have developed multiple defaults. Even in my true form, I look different depending on the environment and circumstances.

MC: I will have to take **more** pictures than expected.

Decimus: Why do you sound so anticipating?

MC: I want to start taking those pictures **now**.

Decimus: Stay where you are.

MC: But —!

Decimus: **Patience**. You are the one who wanted to see me at work. At this time of the night, I usually work on a statue or a painting.

MC: But why do **I** have to be the model? Let it be Luke.

Decimus: He can't keep still long enough to be a proper model.

MC: I can't argue with that. Those wings of his made him even more mobile.

Decimus: Speaking of which, you should ask Luke for one of his feathers. An angel's feather has many useful qualities, especially if willingly given.

MC: Wouldn't it hurt if he plucks it out?

Decimus: ...Yes, but only for a moment. And only a little.

MC: No way, I don't want to hurt him!

Decimus: Don't you want to have his feather...?

I can't deny that I want it, but...

MC: I'll wait until his feathers grow and one of them drops on its own.

Decimus: ...That won't happen, even if you wait for millennia. Angels don't drop their feathers. You won't find an angel's feather lying on the ground. You can only receive one from the angel's own hands.

Decimus' brush pauses for a moment.

Decimus: Well, and those feathers can be **forcibly extracted** , of course. Just like any other **ingredient**. If he lacks the courage to pluck his feather out himself, I would be **happy to assist** him.

Luke: No thanks.

Luke flutters into the garden alcove, carrying a tray full of warm cookies.

MC: Cookies! Don't mind if I do.

Luke: Careful, don't swallow them whole...! Have some tea too.

MC: Let's have a tea break, Decimus.

Decimus: Very well.

While Luke is busy serving the cookies, I snap a picture of Luke.

* * *

Meanwhile, at a classified outpost...

Watcher #1: Say. Did you see that carriage too?

Watcher #2: Yup, I sure did.

Watcher #1: Did it really have Mammon and Asmodeus on board?

Watcher #2: Yup, it sure did.

Watcher #1: And have you seen their entourage following them?

Watcher #2: Hard to miss, that.

Watcher #1: Shouldn't we inform the base about the intruders approaching?

Watcher #2: Yep, we sure should. But...

Watcher #2: There might be a bit of a **problem** with that.

Watcher #1: ...That's right. Haven't we just **sold** all our **radios** , just five minutes ago?

Watcher #2: Yup, we sure sold them.

Watcher #1: Remind me again, why did we do it?

Watcher #2: Because they fetched a good price, of course. Both of us thought it was an excellent idea at the time.

Watcher #1: Right, I thought it was good to have some cash.

Watcher #2: I'm always short on cash, myself.

Watcher #1: All right, then how about we find some winged demons and have them deliver the report about the intruders?

Watcher #2: I've just been to the mess room. All the winged demons are gathered there, and they're having an orgy.

Watcher #1: Why are they having an orgy NOW? Couldn't they have waited until the end of their shift...?

Watcher #2: Who knows? They started just five minutes ago. I guess they suddenly got in the mood.

Watcher #1: So we can't inform the base about the intruders?

Watcher #2: Nope, we sure can't. Looks like their arrival will be a surprise.

Watcher #1: ...Then, what should we do?

Watcher #2: How about we go and join that orgy?

Watcher #1: ...

Watcher #1: You know what. That might be an **excellent idea**.

Watcher #1: Once the brass learns about the failure of this outpost, I don't think we'll be getting any orgy opportunities **for a while**.

* * *

[HarmlessHuman has posted a picture on Devilgram.]

It's an HD picture of Luke hovering a few inches above the ground, holding a tray with cookies. Luke's pink wings are unfolded, and fully visible. Even the feathers can be discerned in detail.

[HarmlessHuman: Is it typical for an angel to have pink wings? It's not a side-effect of an incorrect manifestation, or something? It couldn't have been caused by drinking too much milk, right?]

[HarmlessHuman: Also, he says nobody in the Department of Judgement has pink wings. He's not going to be bullied because of it, is he?]

[HarmlessHuman: If it's because of his virtues, does the color mean something? And should we try and do something about it? Any advice is welcome.]

#Manifestation, #AngelsWings, #Virtues, #CluelessHuman, #TooManySunberries

Within a second, there is a reply.

[Lucifer: No, it's not typical. I have never seen an angel with pink wings before.]

[HarmlessHuman: WHAT? Not a single one? Does that mean something's wrong? Did something happen to Luke's virtues? Will it affect his health? Or is it just a harmless aesthetic? Is he in danger? Is he gonna be okay?]

[Mammoney: HarmlessHuman, don't panic. Let's ask the others. Lucifer didn't pay much attention to low-ranked angels. Just because the top ranks didn't have pink wings, it doesn't mean nobody did.]

[AsmoBaby: I have never seen an angel with pink wings either.]

[Mammoney: WHAT?!]

[L3V1: Me neither.]

[stn: Same for me and Beel. And I've never seen any records of pink-winged angels either.]

[HarmlessHuman: @monSOLO, HELP!!!]

[monSOLO: Give me a few minutes. I'll get in touch with my Celestial contacts.]

[HarmlessHuman: Thank you.]

[HarmlessHuman: If anyone learns anything, please let me know right away.]

[Lucifer: I'll try to get through to Simeon again.]

[Decimus: Yes, the color pink means something.]

[Decimus: And I have seen an angel with pink wings before.]

[Decimus has posted a picture in a comment below.]

This picture is taking a while to load. It must be in HD quality.

Finally, it's fully loaded.

[HarmlessHuman: ...?!]


	46. The Mystery of Color Pink

I stare at the painting Decimus uploaded.

There is a distinctive, ancient quality to it. I recognize the style. This painting was done by using a very old daguerreotype as a reference.

It shows a young angel with pink insectoid wings.

The angel's insectoid wings are fluttering rapidly, creating a blur. The pink color of his wings is so vivid and intense that it completely overwhelms the picture. This angel is like a bright pink lantern.

The strange angel is crouching down, holding up a jagged dagger. He's licking the blade of the dagger, while staring right into the camera. His lips are twisted into a vicious sneer, and his crimson eyes are burning with furious malice.

How is this an **angel**? This is obviously a **demon**...!

But even as I'm thinking that, I know very well that the entity depicted here cannot possibly be a demon. Demons have black wings.

More importantly, this angel —!

[Picture title: Carmine Bright, aka Carmine the Avenger, aka Carmine the Butcher.]

#TimeofChaos, #PinkWings, #MinMaxing, #Corruption

[Decimus: Carmine Bright, the instigator, the recruiter, the executioner, the vanguard. Participated in the Chaos Wars on the Celestial side. Perished during the Battle of Aspire Ridge.]

While I'm still reeling from the picture, there is already a response.

[Lucifer: So this is the Avenger. His images are banned in the Celestial Realm. I never knew he had pink wings.]

[stn: So this is what the Butcher looks like! I've read about his insectoid wings, but I never knew they were pink. I thought he had white wings, just like most angels.]

[stn has changed his nickname to Beelzeburger]

[Beelzeburger: Insectoid wings are very useful for improving speed and maneuverability. They make you both sturdy and mobile. It's a great choice for a vanguard. Bird-like wings are a liability in close combat.]

[AsmoBaby: Carmine is a myth. I never knew that he looked so hot.]

[HarmlessHuman: I know that angel!]

[Mammoney: Wha, really?]

[HarmlessHuman is typing...]

* * *

Meanwhile, at an unknown location...

Solomon is hovering at the center of the pentagram, his arms folded.

His posture is relaxed and his expression is calm. But outside of the pentagram, things are not so tranquil.

Lieutenant: Looks like he got tired of sitting in there, and he wants out!

Commander: You don't say....!

Hundreds of black hands rise out of the ground like smoke, and claw at the edges of the pentagram.

The temporal candles flicker at once.

A solid wall of ants gnaws the pentagram's dome from the inside. Black lightnings strike the top of the dome.

RUMBLE, RUMBLE.

Lieutenant: We're losing this pentagram! It's going to shatter!

Commander: GO, GO, GO!

A squad of five soldiers rushes in, carrying long metal rods. They surround the pentagram on all sides, and plant the rods into the ground.

Soldier #1: Clear!

Soldier #2: Clear!

Soldier #3: Clear!

Soldier #4: Clear!

Soldier #5: Clear!

Commander: POWER ON!

Lieutenant: (flips the switch)

A second, much larger pentagram flares into existence around the first one, just before the first pentagram shatters.

Solomon observes the new pentagram.

The black smoke turns into a large funnel, which attaches itself to the inner walls of the dome, and starts siphoning the power away from the pentagram, transferring it to Solomon.

The glyphs spelling **imprisonment** dim visibly.

Commander: Bring out the reserve generator! Take out emergency power stones to recharge the first generator manually!

A pair of bulky grunts stomp past, hauling a heavy cart, the glowing stones spilling out of it. The floor is shaking and rumbling under their feet as the pentagram is alternatively flaring and dimming under Solomon's onslaught.

The Commander turns to the Lieutenant, the flashes of lightning illuminating his face.

Commander: Lieutenant, go and report to Barbatos. Tell him that Solomon is awake and actively resisting confinement. We're losing control over the situation and won't hold until morning.

Commander: (In fact, if he didn't stop to check his D.D.D. every now and then, we'd be in a much bigger trouble already...)

Solomon makes a pause in his onslaught in order to check his D.D.D.

The Lieutenant takes flight.

* * *

[HarmlessHuman: That's the angel from the statue garden! There was that sculpture — brother and sister, holding hands. He is the brother!]

[HarmlessHuman: Only, he was much younger in the sculpture. And his wings were white.]

[Decimus: You have a good memory. Yes, that was Carmine.]

[Decimus: After I conducted his funeral rites, I created a commemorative statue out of his bones. I used his daguerreotypes and my own memories as a reference.]

[HarmlessHuman: You're the one who conducted his funeral rites? If he's an angel, shouldn't the Celestial realm be doing that?]

[Decimus: About that...]

[Decimus has posted a picture in a comment below.]

This picture is apparently a scan of some old archive page. It lists a rather terse and dry chronological record. I study it carefully.

[Funeral case #615092]

[526 aem, blood moon 3: The subject is identified as Carmine Bright, an angel. The funeral case is opened.]

[526 aem, blood moon 4: Letter is sent to Elysium regarding funeral rites, no response.]

[527 aem: Letter is sent to Lethos regarding funeral rites, no response.]

[528 aem: Letter is sent to Avatar of Kindness regarding funeral rites, response received, letter attached.]

[According to the letter, the Celestial Realm denies the subject's status as an angel, and places no claim upon his remains.]

[Avatar of Kindness included the family daguerreotypes of the subject, and the subject's letter to his sister.]

[Daguerreotypes are attached. The subject's letter to his sister is destroyed.]

[528 aem, reaper moon 8: Funeral rites conducted.]

[The core has damage index 92, no reincarnation possible.]

[The entity is technically classified as an angel, received Celestial rites.]

[The core has corruption index 86, rejected by Essence.]

[528 aem, reaper moon 9: The core is returned to the Source, and becomes part of the Aspire Ridge Source henceforth.]

[No useful ingredients could be extracted from the remains.]

[528 aem, reaper moon 11: The bones of the subject are used for creating a commemorative statue, using daguerreotypes as a reference. The statue is placed in the Garden of Betrayal.]

[The relevant documents are compiled into the subject's personal record, sent to the classified section of the Royal Archive. The copy of the statue is placed in the Museum of Chaos.]

[528 aem, reaper moon 13: the funeral case is closed.]

For a long moment, there is a total silence in the chat.

I don't even know what question to ask first.

[HarmlessHuman: Funeral case #615092?]

[HarmlessHuman: Have you been excavating the remains of those who perished at Aspire Ridge and conducting funeral rites for them, one by one?]

[Decimus: Only for the demons. When I extract the cores of angels, I let the Celestial Realm handle those.]

[Decimus: Aside from some rare exceptions.]

[HarmlessHuman: You've really been extracting those cores one by one? How long will it take you to extract them all?]

[Decimus: It's a necessity. If a core is fused into bedrock, it has to be extracted carefully, lest it cracks.]

[Decimus: Those who are buried too deep, or melted into bedrock, or frozen into soil, are unable to reincarnate. Their cores need to be extracted first, mostly intact.]

[HarmlessHuman: Is that why you live here? To serve as an undertaker of this place?]

[Decimus: For the most part, yes. I will remain here until my work is done.]

[HarmlessHuman: How far have you progressed in your work?]

[Decimus: I am about 74% done.]

[BigTail: You have already extracted all who are capable of reincarnation. You're only dealing with broken fragments now.]

[BigTail: All the angels have already been returned. We haven't received any requests from the Celestial Realm for centuries. Only the lower demons remain buried here.]

[BigTail: I will offer again, let me Blight the entire area. This way, all the remaining fragments will be returned to Prime at once.]

[Decimus: Thank you for your offer. One day, I will take you up on it.]

[Decimus: But not yet.]

[BigTail: Hmph, then I should go back to sleep and wake up when you're done.]

[LordDiavolo: Oh, are you feeling sleepy? In that case, I won't keep you from your rest any longer! Good n]

[BigTail: **Not yet**. I have more questions for you first, Diavolo.]

[LordDiavolo: How many MORE questions...?!]

I still have so many questions for Decimus. I feel so uneasy about this...

[HarmlessHuman: Decimus, what's **corruption index**?]

[Decimus: The index of corruption shows how close an angel's virtues are to zero.]

[Decimus: When one or more virtue hits zero, it causes the complete virtue collapse. The wings color black is achieved, the scale is inverted, and the distribution of virtues becomes the distribution of sins.]

[Decimus: This event is commonly referred to as the Fall. But that in itself does not guarantee a place in the Devildom. You have to go through the official channels to become a proper demon.]

[HarmlessHuman: So, there is definitely a correlation between the color of angel's wings and the state of angel's virtues? Even if the color isn't black yet?]

[Decimus: Of course.]

I knew it...!

[HarmlessHuman: Can you give me more details?]

[Decimus: The higher the virtue, the more intense is the **brightness**. And the lower the virtue, the more vivid is the **hue**.]

[HarmlessHuman: ...]

[HarmlessHuman: So, having colorful wings is **not a good thing**?]

Unexpectedly, Lucifer speaks up.

[Lucifer: That depends on how you look at it.]

[Lucifer: Having completely white wings might be a mathematical ideal for an angel, but it's a practical impossibility.]

[Lucifer: Not to mention...]

[Lucifer: Well...]

[HarmlessHuman: ...?]

[Decimus: Since the former Archangel is unable to say it, allow me.]

[Decimus: If all virtues are exactly average, and completely equal to each other, the color **pure white** is achieved.]

[Decimus: However, this results in a completely **average** angel, who does not stand out in any way, and is not useful for any work that requires **talent** and **drive**.]

[Decimus: For this reason, Archangels and Avatars are min-maxing their attributes.]

[Decimus: They're driving their chosen virtues up to the maximum, in order to excel at their chosen field, at the cost of dropping their other virtues into the critical zone.]

[Decimus: Someone who can keep one virtue at a maximum for extended periods of time might be considered a candidate for an Avatar.]

[Decimus: Someone who can keep two or more virtues at a maximum for an indefinite period of time is considered an Archangel.]

[Decimus has posted a picture in a comment below.]

It's a diagram of virtues, with a huge disparity between them.

Humility and Mercy are critically low. Kindness is way below average. But the other virtues are maxed out.

An angelic spectrum accompanies the diagram. The hues and their brightness all mix together into a single intense color.

This is...the color I know well.

[Decimus: This is how the **pure golden** color is achieved.]

Don't tell me this is Michael's diagram?

Before I can ask this question, Decimus continues.

[Decimus: This risky practice of min-maxing the virtues was especially popular during the Time of Chaos. Angels, especially those on the frontlines, were encouraged to drive their abilities to the limit.]

[Decimus: However, those who rise to the top are constantly risking the Fall. Several of their virtues are constantly in the critical zone.]

[Decimus: If they don't improve their abilities, they're under pressure to better themselves.]

[Decimus: But if they improve their abilities, and stand out too much, they're under pressure to become more average and step away from the edge.]

[Decimus: **Without lowering their productivity** , or course.]

[Decimus: For an angel, it's a game you cannot win.]

[Decimus: The top brass of the angelic hierarchy were walking on the edge every day.]

[Decimus: It was common practice among them to use an anchor. Something that kept them tied to the Celestial Realm. And existence so important that it overwhelmed everything else.]

[Decimus: Carmine's anchor was his sister. She was an average angel with white wings. Because of her, Carmine was completely chained to the Celestial Realm. Even if he wanted to let go and find release in the Fall, he couldn't.]

[Decimus: That is why, even after Carmine turned his wings insectoid to improve his speed, and relinquished most of his virtues to improve his charm and lethality, becoming almost indistinguishable from a demon in his views and his deeds, feared by Celestial and Infernal sides alike, to the point where the Celestial Realm renounced him, and didn't even want to claim his remains, his core corrupted so much that it could not be returned to Essence — he had never stopped being an **angel**.]

[Decimus: Even though...]

[Decimus has posted a picture in a comment below.]

This is a diagram of virtues, but a different one.

[Decimus: This is Carmine's diagram of virtues.]

Diligence is maxed out. Sacrifice is close to the top. However, all the other virtues are very low. Mercy, in particular, is in the critical zone, and Purity is so low, it's bordering on zero.

[Decimus: Below average Mercy, and **low Purity**. This is how color **pink** is achieved.]

[HarmlessHuman: ...!!!]

[Decimus has posted a picture in a comment below.]

[Decimus has posted a picture in a comment below.]

Two diagrams of virtues are posted in a quick succession.

[Decimus: This is Luke's diagrams of virtues before and after his manifestation of wings.]

At a single glance, I can see that all of his virtues have grown after the manifestation, except Mercy, which remained the same, and...

And **Purity** , which dropped **below average**.

[Angeluke: My — **PURITY**!]

[Angeluke: Now that my purity is GONE, who's going to take responsibility for it?]

[Angeluke: HarmlessHuman, are you going to **take responsibility**?]

[HarmlessHuman: ...]

What...am I going to tell Simeon?

[Angeluke: Someone once told me that I might become Avatar of Purity one day...]

[Angeluke: But no more...This road is now closed...My innocence is taken away...]

[HarmlessHuman: ...]

[Angeluke: HarmlessHuman?]

[Angeluke: Why do you have a catatonic expression on your face?]

[Angeluke: HarmlessHuman, I was only teasing you.]

[HarmlessHuman has left the chat.]

[Angeluke: Wait, HarmlessHuman!]

[HarmlessHuman has posted a public announcement.]

[HarmlessHuman: **Attention, everyone**.]

[HarmlessHuman: Any demon, angel, human, or any other entity, who can tell me **HOW TO RESTORE AN ANGEL'S PURITY** will be receive this MAGIC RING as a REWARD.]

[A picture of a long amethyst ring is attached. The amethyst is ostentatiously large. The ring itself is covered with lewd images.]

[Title: The Long Ring of Succubus Touch. Rechargeable. Fully charged, never used.]

[The certificate of ownership attached. The certificate of quality attached.]

I actually won that ring at a convention of Witches and Sorcerers, in a game of cards. I went there as Solomon's tagalong. (He was not particularly thrilled when I decided to accompany him, but he uttered no complaints either.)

MC: Let's see if there are any replies...

[Angeluke: I was only joking! I don't want to be Avatar of Purity!]

Within seconds, Luke's comment is buried under a mountain of other replies. They're from random demons, promising a guaranteed miracle cure in exchange for the ring.

_ding._

I check the incoming message.

[Asmodeus: I never thought I'd see the day when someone would try to restore an angel's purity, after taking it away.]

[Asmodeus: I don't often say that, but...this is a **first** for me.]

[Asmodeus: It's not every day I get to experience something **new** in my area of expertise.]

[Asmodeus: This is so thrilling! A completely uncharted, **virgin** territory...and all because of you...!]

[MC: Asmo... The last thing I need right now is being accused of taking away the innocence of Avatar of Lust too.]

_ding._

[Solomon: My Celestial contact is here.]

[Solomon: It was a struggle to get him through the red tape. But finally both Diavolo and Decimus approved the Devilnet authorization for him.]

[Solomon: He is said to know more about angelic manifestation of wings than anyone else in the Celestial Realm.]

[Solomon: We go way back, and I personally highly recommend him.]

[WinglessOne: Hello.]

[WinglessOne: Kindly remove your post about **restoring an angel's purity**. It is an eyesore, it doesn't serve any useful purpose, and it's already creating more rumors than everything else during the last century combined.]

[WinglessOne: I will tell you how to rebalance Luke's virtues.]


	47. Grand Theft Auto x2

I delete the post about restoring an angel's purity, but I don't reply to the WinglessOne right away. I have my suspicions about that angel's identity.

In particular, I know one angel who is currently wingless. And his wings are in my possession now.

I consider asking Solomon directly, but if he wanted to tell me, he would've done so already...

_ding._

[Solomon: The WinglessOne wishes to keep his anonymity, but you have probably already guessed who that is.]

[Solomon: I have told him nothing about his wings, but he must have his own suspicions, even if he's not shared them with anyone.]

[Solomon: I wouldn't be surprised if he already knows who has his wings. He's not here to investigate that.]

[Solomon: This is the first time he's shown any interest in using the Devilnet. I think he just wants to observe what's happening here.]

[Solomon: He dislikes being the last one to know things.]

[Solomon: He really is the best expert on the angelic manifestation of wings you can find.]

[MC: I understand. Thank you, Master.]

_ding._

Solomon has created a private chat group, and invited me to join it.

Solomon has invited WinglessOne, Luke, Decimus, and Asmodeus to join the chat.

MC: (Even Asmo...?)

[WinglessOne: All right, let's get this meeting started.]

[WinglessOne: First of all, I would like to address you, "harmless" human, and you, Luke.]

[WinglessOne: What were you thinking?]

I feel a lecture approaching. It is imminent.

[MC: Excuse me for a minute, I need to go feed the lower demons.]

[Luke: Me too!]

[WinglessOne: Don't even **think** about leaving, you two.]

[WinglessOne: Or do you not want to know how to rebalance Luke's virtues anymore?]

[MC: ...All right, I'm listening.]

[Luke: ...Me too.]

[WinglessOne: First, you, human representative. Even if you decide to listen to a demon, you should know better than to take everything he says at face value.]

[WinglessOne: Obviously Decimus would try and tempt an angel into a disparity in virtues, by presenting it as the only path available to an Archangel. If you believe everything he's saying, he might even cause you to look down on angels who choose not to deviate from the perfect median.]

[WinglessOne: There is nothing "talentless" or "average" about the state of inner balance, the perfect median that results in the **white color of wings**.]

[WinglessOne: It is the state of alertness and awareness in which an angel observes the world and oneself without anything coming in between and distorting that perception.]

[WinglessOne: It is the state of an observer who does not change the world they observe. It is the state of a warrior prepared for anything. It is the state of an agent who moves through hostile elements, untainted.]

[WinglessOne: It is the blank state of restart where you are returned back to the beginning.]

MC: ...!

[WinglessOne: Having said that, there are indeed those among us who choose to deviate quite drastically from the perfect median. For various reasons.]

[WinglessOne: Now you, Luke.]

[WinglessOne: You know quite well that this human is anxious and worried about your manifestation, your future, your wings, and the state of your virtues.]

[WinglessOne: Yet, instead of assuaging those fears, you choose to join in on a demon's prank, and lament the loss of your Purity.]

[WinglessOne: Now, as a result of that, the entire Devildom is gossiping about an angel who got seduced by a succubus.]

[Luke: ...]

[WinglessOne: I hope this will serve you as a lesson to consider your words and actions more carefully in the future.]

[WinglessOne: Now that you have risen in rank, the weight of your actions will only increase, and so will your responsibilities.]

[WinglessOne: You have always had a propensity for mischief. That in itself is not a flaw, and it's good to be young and energetic, but consider those who will have to clean up your mess.]

[WinglessOne: If you care about no one else, think about Simeon. He...]

_ding._

Apparently bored with the lecture, Asmo has created a private chat group, which he has titled "JUICY RUMORS!", and he invited all of his brothers to join in, as well as Decimus and me.

[Asmodeus: Everyone, I've heard the most JUICY rumor about Raphael!]

[Mammon: What rumor? What are you talkin' about, Asmo?]

[Asmodeus: A very **recent** , extremely **juicy** rumor. Even in the Celestial Realm, there are very few who know about it.]

[Beelzebub: Then how do you know about it, Asmo?]

[Asmodeus: Is it you, Satan? I have my sources.]

[Belphegor: Spit it out already, Asmo.]

[Asmodeus: Is it you, Lucifer? Is Belphie here too?]

[Belphegor: We're both here.]

[Leviathan: Even though nobody cares or asks, I'm here too. I'm always lurking.]

[Asmodeus: Looks like everyone is here and paying attention to me.]

[Asmodeus: Good.]

[Mammon: I agree with Lucifer. Stop buildin' up suspense and spit it out already.]

[Asmodeus: All right, here's what I heard.]

[Asmodeus: They say Raphael might be demoted as Archangel because he’s done something very, very **naughty**.]

[Asmodeus: They say Raphael **stole Michael's wings**.]

MC: ...

[Asmodeus: What's worse, he's refusing to give them back. He insists that he never stole them, and that he doesn't know where they are.]

[Asmodeus: Michael's signature was last detected somewhere in the Abyss area.]

[Asmodeus: They suspect that Raphael used an unidentified artifact in order to steal Michael's wings, and then he smuggled the wings into the Devildom. He already has a history of misusing ceremonial artifacts and sneaking into the Devildom unauthorized.]

[Asmodeus: They took Raphael into custody, and the Inquisitors are questioning him now.]

[Mammon: What about usin' the Scales of Judgement? The judge would know right away if he's innocent.]

[Mammon: ...Oh.]

[Asmodeus: Yes, Mammon. The Scales are currently, ahem, **indisposed**.]

[Belphegor: Couldn't Raphael have invoked a Celestial Appeal? This is an Archangel's privilege. If he's innocent, the Elysium court would clear him.]

[Asmodeus: Well, there's a bit of a problem with that.]

[Asmodeus: Apparently, someone has already invoked a Celestial Appeal, mere hours ago. Even though the invocation didn't completely come through, it was registered, so it still counts.]

[Asmodeus: And according to the Celestial laws, only one Celestial Appeal can be invoked per century. Gathering a court of Archangels is a pretty big deal, after all.]

MC: (It was Luke, I remember it... Luke has invoked a Celestial Appeal during that unfortunate Heaven's Judgement trial.)

MC: (I didn't know only Archangels could do that. He must have panicked when he saw me interfere, or maybe he was trying to distract the judge and buy time.)

MC: (No wonder the judge got confused as a result of all that...)

[Asmodeus: So Raphael can't appeal again, at least until a century passes.]

[Asmodeus: With Celestial shortcuts unavailable, the Inquisitors reverted to the good old-fashioned manual investigation.]

[Asmodeus: They lifted the Grand Seal of Secrecy, and **restored Raphael's erased records** from the Time of Chaos.]

[Asmodeus: They suspect there might be something in those records that would hint at Raphael's motives.]

[Asmodeus: Right now, they think he might have stolen those wings in order to exchange them for his lost heart.]

[Belphegor: **That's** a disaster for Raphael.]

[Belphegor: Even if he's cleared of all charges now, the problem is his **restored records** from the Time of Chaos...]

[Belphegor: It is highly unlikely that an angel with his **history** would be permitted to stay an Archangel.]

[Asmodeus: Yup, that's what I heard too. Apparently, even the Inquisitors are **shocked** at what they read in those records.]

[MC: Is Michael participating in the investigation?]

[Asmodeus: No, he said he has more important things to do. He's left it entirely up to the Inquisitors.]

[Asmodeus: Raphael is being accused of smuggling, obscuring judgement, unauthorized artifact use, grand theft auto, and grand theft auto.]

[Mammon: There are two counts of grand theft auto?]

[Asmodeus: Yep, one for each wing.]

[MC: How very naughty of Raphael.]

[Decimus: Do you know anything about this?]

[MC: Even if I did, this is the internal affair of the Celestial Realm.]

[MC: I am an exchange student in the Devildom.]

[MC: I see no reason to mention things that have nothing to do with my studies here.]

* * *

Meanwhile, at the Demon Lord’s Castle...

The Lieutenant is reporting to Barbatos, who stands facing away from him.

Lieutenant: Solomon is awake and actively resisting confinement.

Barbatos: Yes, I am aware.

Barbatos turns to face the Lieutenant.

Lieutenant: ...!

Blood is dripping out of Barbatos' nose, eyes, and even ears. Barbatos is holding a napkin to his face, trying to stem the flow of blood.

Lieutenant: ...Are you ALL RIGHT?

Lieutenant: (What kind of stupid question did I just ask? He's obviously not all right...)

Barbatos: This is nothing. Merely a backlash from the pact. Solomon is making his displeasure known.

Barbatos discards the blood-drenched napkin and replaces it with another one.

Barbatos: Here, take this key.

Barbatos takes a chain off his neck. A large, ominous key carved out of bone is attached to it. Barbatos gives it to the Lieutenant.

Barbatos: This is a trap capable of imprisoning an archdemon. Use it to contain Solomon until morning.

Barbatos: (I had hoped it wouldn't come to this...A good relationship is important in a pact. But I have no other choice. I must follow the orders of my Prince.)

Barbatos waves his hand, dismissing the Lieutenant. With a bow, the Lieutenant backs out of the room, the chained key in his hands.

Just before the door closes behind him, the Lieutenant glances at the cup of tea on Barbatos' table.

Lieutenant: (Uh, is that...carrot juice?)

After the Lieutenant leaves, Barbatos comes up to a mirror and studies his reflection. His blood-streaked face doesn't seem to bother him. Instead, he examines closely the tips of his ears.

After a moment of examination, Barbatos presses down on his ears, hard.

Barbatos: I do NOT have rabbit ears.

Barbatos: This is merely an after-effect from the dreamscape. Nothing but a mental illusion. It's temporary. In a few hours, it will wear off.

Barbatos: I am NOT turning into a rabbit.

Barbatos turns away from his reflection and moves towards the table, to get a calming drink of his carrot tea.

There is a patch of moonlight in his way.

Without any conscious thought, Barbatos hops over it.


	48. On Purity

[WinglessOne: Now, regarding Luke's manifestation of wings.]

[WinglessOne: I understand this is your first manifestation, and you have many questions and concerns.]

[WinglessOne: I will now address all of your concerns, one by one.]

[WinglessOne: First of all, I judge Luke's manifestation **successful**.]

[MC: ...!]

[WinglessOne: Virtues fluctuate. Balance can be adjusted. Brightness can be striven for. There are countless methods for that.]

[WinglessOne: The **wings** are the important part.]

[WinglessOne: Growing your wings is the foundation of everything, and there is no surefire method for that.]

[WinglessOne: Now that you have your own wings, Luke, everything else is merely a matter of applying yourself.]

[WinglessOne: The fact that you were able to grow your wings on your own, instead of using an artifact, will give you an tremendous advantage. Not just a career-related one, but also a spiritual one.]

[WinglessOne: For example, should you lose your wings in the future, you would be able to grow them back again. It's only a question of time and resources.]

[WinglessOne: Any angel who relied on an artifact for manifestation of wings can be easily, potentially permanently, incapacitated. But to you, a loss of wings would be a temporary inconvenience at best. This is why the Department of Judgement only accepts those who have grown their own wings.]

[WinglessOne: Your official ceremony is next week, but allow me to be the first one to congratulate you on your successful manifestation.]

[MC: Congratulations!]

[Solomon: (congratulations sticker)]

[Asmodeus: (congratulations sticker)]

[Decimus has modified the congratulations sticker on the fly in order to attach the ribbons to a menacing-looking scythe]

[Luke: Thank you.]

[MC: Luke, you're blushing.]

[Luke: I'm not!]

[WinglessOne: Next, an imbalance in virtues cannot be caused by drinking too much milk.]

[WinglessOne: Although I advise Luke to consume less restoratives or stimulants in the near future.]

[WinglessOne: Or else you'd be so full of energy that you would find it difficult to fall asleep.]

[MC: We'd be in trouble if he becomes any more energetic...No more tea for you, Luke.]

[Luke: I already feel like I won't be able to fall asleep for a week.]

[WinglessOne: Next, Luke is not going to be **bullied** because of his pink wings. The very idea is preposterous.]

[Asmodeus: If there are angels in the Department of Judgement who remember Carmine, Luke might be **feared** instead of bullied.]

[WinglessOne: Being fearsome is a desirable quality for an Enforcer to have.]

[MC: Luke, you're going to be **fearsome**! That's so cute!]

[Luke: There is something very wrong with that statement...]

[WinglessOne: Now, regarding Luke's virtues.]

[WinglessOne: First things first. There is no problem whatsoever with low Mercy.]

[WinglessOne: Low Mercy is practically a requirement for working in the Department of Judgement.]

[WinglessOne: We're Enforcers, not Consolers. Mercy, forgiveness, comfort, and all that nonsense is not my Department. It can be found in spades elsewhere.]

MC: (WinglessOne, your anonymity is slipping...)

[WinglessOne: Next, the question of low Purity.]

[WinglessOne: I understand your main concern is a potential Fall.]

[WinglessOne: Any angel who has an ambition to rise to the very top has to take that risk into consideration.]

[WinglessOne: However, there are various methods of minimizing the risk.]

[WinglessOne: Depending on how high you intend to rise, you might be able to reuse the existing methods, or develop your own.]

[WinglessOne: All Archangels have developed their own methods.]

[MC: Which method does Michael use?]

Let's see if he answers that question...

[WinglessOne has posted a picture in a comment below.]

This is Michael's diagram of virtues, I recognize it instantly. It's hard to forget a diagram with four virtues maximized.

But this diagram is a more detailed one. All of the virtues have their brightness quantified, in percentage.

Wait, if you add all these percentages together, they add up...to 120%.

[WinglessOne: As you can see, the solution is to raise the collective brightness above the limit.]

[WinglessOne: In fact, as long as brightness does not fall below 100%, the Fall will never occur.]

[WinglessOne: However, not every angel is capable of such a feat. In fact, most angels do not possess a potential to maximize more than one virtue.]

[WinglessOne: Therefore, for Luke, I recommend a different approach.]

[WinglessOne has posted a picture in a comment below.]

It's a diagram of virtues, and a very curious one.

My first impression is that this diagram is artificial. It cannot possibly belong to a real angel.

Persistence, Humility, and Mercy are above average, and almost completely equal to each other.

Kindness, Sacrifice, and Purity are below average, and almost completely equal to each other as well.

And Temperance is maxed out.

This almost-perfect, symmetrical balance looks too unnatural. It gives me an impression of an angel adjusting the virtues as though turning knobs on a control panel.

No one has **that much** restraint, control, and patience.

But if this diagram is real, I really wonder who that indifferent angel is.

[WinglessOne: This diagram belongs to Simeon.]

MC: ...

Good thing I didn't voice my impressions in the chat.

[WinglessOne: Simeon is using a popular but difficult method. This is the path of an Avatar who does not wish to give up on the inner balance.]

[WinglessOne: This is how he was able to keep his wings white, while still pursuing the career of Temperance.]

[WinglessOne: It's a grueling method that requires many difficult trials and an incredible amount of **patience**.]

[WinglessOne: His efforts have borne fruit. I haven't told anyone yet, but Simeon is being considered for the position of Avatar of Temperance right now.]

[Luke: ...!]

[WinglessOne: Because of how difficult this position is, we haven't had Avatar of Temperance for centuries. We've been waiting for a proper candidate.]

[WinglessOne: I have high hopes that our wait is finally coming to an end.]

[WinglessOne: If Simeon can pass his current trial of non-interference, he would be qualified for the position of Observer, and from that, the path of an Avatar of Temperance is only a step away.]

[MC: The trial of non-interference?]

[WinglessOne: I cannot share the details, but this trial is harder than it sounds.]

[WinglessOne: The previous candidates all dropped out at this step.]

[Solomon: I'm sure Simeon can make it.]

[Solomon: He is playing the long game.]

[WinglessOne: That aside...]

[WinglessOne: Luke, you want to be Avatar of Purity?]

[Luke: It's not like I want to...]

[WinglessOne: I had no idea that you had such **ambitions**.]

[Luke: I'm telling you, I don't—!]

[WinglessOne: Now, now. There's no need to be embarrassed.]

[WinglessOne: I'll give you some **pointers**.]

[Luke: Please don't!]

[MC: I want to hear those pointers.]

[Luke: Trust me, you don't want to hear them...]

[MC: Why, you already know what they are?]

[Luke: ...I have my suspicions.]

[WinglessOne: Purity is one of the hardest virtues to max out, but it is also one of the easiest virtues to maintain.]

[WinglessOne: Since maintaining it is so easy, it's pretty unusual to find an angel with pink wings.]

[WinglessOne: This is something that can only happen briefly after the manifestation, when the virtues still fluctuate easily.]

[WinglessOne: I'll tell you how to maintain your Purity.]

[WinglessOne: ...Actually, the one in charge of your manifestation is supposed to be telling you that.]

[WinglessOne: But seeing how Simeon is unavailable, and this human is clueless, I'll do it.]

[WinglessOne: We're going to have **the talk**.]

[Luke: UGH. I **knew** it!]

[MC: ...Then, I will excuse myself.]

[Solomon: Me too.]

[Decimus: Me too.]

[Asmodeus: I will stay and listen! Maybe I'll learn something **new**.]

[WinglessOne: **Nobody leaves**.]

[WinglessOne: I don't want to be doing it either.]

[WinglessOne: If you leave me here by myself, I won't tell you how to rebalance Luke's virtues.]

[MC: ...]

[Decimus: ...]

[Solomon: ...]

[WinglessOne: I will just say it once.]

[WinglessOne: The big secret that nobody talks about.]

[WinglessOne: **Unless you bed a demon, your Purity will never drop to zero**.]

[Luke: ...]

[WinglessOne: And that means, **no kissing** , and **nothing further** either.]

[Luke: ...I get it.]

[WinglessOne: Holding hands is still fine, but if you want to hug, keep the contact brief.]

[Luke: ...I get it already.]

[WinglessOne: If you absolutely MUST cuddle with a demon, make sure you're fully clothed.]

[Luke: ENOUGH. I don't want to hear anymore!]

[Luke: Why would I even want to **touch a demon**?]

[MC: ...Then, if I become a demon, you wouldn't want to touch me either?]

[MC: I see...]

[Luke: Wait, that's not what I meant!]

[Luke: Urmfrm...]

[Luke: I mean, you're definitely NOT going to become a demon!]

[Decimus: I wouldn't be so **sure**.]

[Asmodeus: Hold on. So it's fine to cuddle in bed with a demon, as long as you're fully clothed?]

[Asmodeus: What if the demon is naked?]

[WinglessOne: Then it would be better to wear armor.]

[WinglessOne: Sleeping armored in a hostile environment is a good habit to get into, anyway.]

[WinglessOne: And don't forget to put an unsheathed sword between you. That would keep the naked nuisance at bay.]

[Asmodeus: Uugh, a SWORD? How **brute**.]

[WinglessOne: Demons who specialize in night charms are usually afraid of violence. They don't want to get a single scratch on their skin. A threat like this will get rid of them in an instant.]

[WinglessOne: If fact, you can spare some time, it's very efficient to **slay** half a dozen demons, and make warning **totems** out of their **skulls**.]

[WinglessOne: Then, place those totems next to your bedding. This will guarantee you'll get a good night's sleep, without any **annoying interruptions**.]

[Asmodeus: ...WinglessOne, I don't think you understand the concept of **cuddling**.]

[Luke: ...]

Luke's complexion is a bit green. It looks like he's taking spiritual damage. I think I'd better divert the conversation, to give him some time to recover.

[MC: WinglessOne, there's no way that physical intimacy is the only way to lower Purity, right.]

[WinglessOne: Of course not. There are countless other ways. But all of them can be counteracted later.]

[MC: Counteracted how?]

[WinglessOne: I'm getting there. What you need to understand first is that keeping Purity away from the critical zone is **ridiculously easy**.]

[WinglessOne: So you don't need to be concerned about the Fall just yet. The state of Luke's virtues is unlikely to worsen any time soon.]

[WinglessOne: Just don't kiss a demon. End of story.]

[MC: That's a relief!]

[MC: But... What about Carmine?]

[MC: If it's that easy to maintain Purity, how did he allow his to drop so low?]

[WinglessOne: Carmine was primarily a recruiter. He worked in constant, close contact with demons.]

[WinglessOne: In his work, he relied heavily on his charm. The demons found his half-demonic, half-angelic image irresistible. They all wanted to tempt him into the Fall.]

[WinglessOne: He was one of the key players during the battle for the Elysium Source.]

[WinglessOne: That time...]

[WinglessOne: Both the Celestial and the Infernal sides tried everything, holding nothing back.]

[WinglessOne: In order to obtain information and recruit spies, Carmine used all methods, including seduction.]

[WinglessOne: I don't know how far he went with his demon targets, but no doubt there was some physical contact.]

[MC: Decimus, were you ever involved with Carmine?]

[Decimus: No. The battle for the Maar Source happened at the same time, and I was deployed there.]

[Decimus: If I was at Elysium at that time, I would have put Carmine out of his misery.]

[Decimus: Then he would've reincarnated, and Elysium would've been ours.]

[WinglessOne: And Maar would've been ours, if you weren't there.]

[MC: You mean, the city of Maar exists because of Decimus?]

[WinglessOne: That is common knowledge in the Devildom.]

[MC: And the city of Elysium exists because of Carmine?]

[WinglessOne: Undoubtedly.]

[Decimus: Yes.]

[WinglessOne: By all rights, Carmine should've been named the founder of Elysium.]

[WinglessOne: However, nobody wants to know that the Celestial capital was founded on guiles and deception, and so Carmine's name was lost in obscurity.]

[MC: WinglessOne, I've noticed it before, but you're surprisingly forthcoming.]

[MC: Listening to you is interesting. And you share a lot of useful info.]

[WinglessOne: I should hope you find it useful. I'd hate to waste my valuable time on sharing knowledge that is neither appreciated nor put to use.]

[Solomon: WinglessOne, I feel like I should warn you. You've been found **interesting** and **informative**.]

[Solomon: Watch out.]

[WinglessOne: Solomon, what are you getting at?]

[Solomon: Just...brace yourself.]

[MC: WinglessOne, I feel like I could listen to you for hours.]

[MC: Why aren't our lecturers at RAD as good as you?]

[MC: I bet you have lots of stories to share about the Time of Chaos. I want to hear all about angelic virtues and the history of the Sources.]

[MC: I wish you could be a guest lecturer here at RAD. So many questions would've been answered.]

[Decimus: Diavolo would never authorize that.]

[MC: Really? Why not?]

[Decimus: Because WinglessOne is an **indoctrinator**.]

[Decimus: Here's a sure sign. If you listen to someone and find yourself thinking, "That makes sense," even though it didn't make sense to you before, you're dealing with an indoctrinator.]

[Decimus: If you start a conversation with one opinion, and end up with a diametrically opposite one, you're dealing with an indoctrinator.]

[Decimus: If you catch yourself thinking, "I wish he'd keep talking, I don't want him to stop," you're dealing with an indoctrinator.]

[Decimus: Moreover, you're yet to hear his voice. Many find it pleasant to listen to. That's another sign of an indoctrinator.]

[Decimus: Diavolo would never expose young and impressionable students to someone like that.]

[MC: I see. So you're an indoctrinator, Decimus.]

[Decimus: ...]

[WinglessOne: Pfft.]

[MC: Whenever I listen to you, I always find myself thinking, "That makes sense."]

[Decimus: ...]

[WinglessOne: Ahaha. There's nothing you can say to that, is there?]

[MC: All of the signs point at that. You even have a very pleasant voice when in your true form.]

[MC: I should be more on guard around you.]

[WinglessOne: Decimus, you've just checkmated yourself.]

[Decimus: I must say, I did not expect the two of you to get along so well...]

[MC: WinglessOne, tell me more about making totems out of skulls.]

[WinglessOne: With pleasure.]

[Asmodeus: Ugh, let's not discuss such unsightly things.]

[Asmodeus: Let's go back to the subject of Purity.]

[Asmodeus: Luke, what I want to know is, how did you end up lowering your Purity?]

[Asmodeus: Were you doing impure deeds during your manifestation?]

[Luke: No.]

[Asmodeus: Are you sure?]

[Luke: Yes.]

[Asmodeus: Oh well. Then, there is only one conclusion...]

[Asmodeus: You must have been thinking impure thoughts.]

[Luke: ...]

[Asmodeus: What did you think about?]

[Luke: There's no way I would confess to a demon.]

[MC: Just think of it as a consilium instead of a confession.]

[MC: We need to figure out what went wrong.]

[Asmodeus: Is there any need to ask?]

[Asmodeus: It's **obvious** what Luke was thinking about.]

[Luke: ...?!]

[Luke: It's **obvious**...?]

Uh, I think I know where this is going. Asmo, not now...

[Asmodeus: Luke was thinking about **me**!]

...Sure enough.

[Luke: Huh?]

[MC: Asmo, why would Luke be thinking about you?]

[Asmodeus: It's simple.]

[Asmodeus: He must have seen something beautiful, and it reminded him of my image.]

[MC: Did you say...]

[MC: ... **image**?]

[Asmodeus: Of course. A ray of moonlight, a pretty flower, anything could have invoked in his memory my stunning visage.]

[Asmodeus: And before he knew it, he was fantasizing about me...]

[MC: Just an **image** alone is enough to **lower Purity**?]

[Asmodeus: If an experience is **intense enough** , certainly. And my beauty is stunning enough to cause the downfall of countries.]

[MC: Oh, no.]

[MC: I think I know what happened!]

[MC: It's my fault, Luke.]

[MC: I really shouldn't have shown you those pictures of Lucifer!]


	49. The Challenge

Meanwhile, at an unknown location...

The Lieutenant alights next to the smoking, crackling pentagram.

During his brief absence, the situation has taken a turn for the worse.

Power stones are strewn everywhere, the ground is cracked, deep fissures are spreading out from the pentagram, an ominous black vortex has appeared overhead, and the soldiers have begun powering up the reserve generator by manual pedaling.

An elite squadron surrounds the pentagram on all sides, their weapons at the ready.

The Commander himself has unsheathed his meteor hammer, and he watches Solomon grimly.

Just as before, Solomon hovers calmly in the middle of the pentagram. He looks completely absorbed in checking his D.D.D., as though the commotion outside has nothing to do with him.

Lieutenant: Commander.

The Commander turns to face him.

Commander: Finally, you're back. What did Barbatos say?

Before the Lieutenant can respond, the Commander's expression changes.

He is staring at something behind the Lieutenant.

Commander: What in the Abyss...?

Instinctively, the Lieutenant takes flight. Then he turns around.

Lieutenant: What the —?

A huge swarm of demons is approaching!

They're moving in a disorganized fashion, but their numbers are innumerable.

At the head of the swarm, riding a particularly enormous demon, is Asmodeus.

The soldiers of the elite squadron are watching the approaching swarm, gobsmacked.

Automatically, one of the elite archers takes aim at Asmodeus.

Commander: No, you idiot — weapon DOWN —!

Asmodeus gives a theatrical shudder.

Asmodeus: Protect me, my lovelies!

**ROAR.**

Commander: RETREAT!

But the Legion soldiers have no time to retreat.

**RUMBLE, RUMBLE.**

Within seconds, the swarm of demons stampedes the location, burying all the soldiers underneath with their sheer numbers.

The Lieutenant, still hovering above, gapes down at the swarm of demons.

Lieutenant: (The key! I can still contain Solomon!)

The Lieutenant takes out the chained bone key.

But before he can break the chain, something strikes him from behind.

Lieutenant: ...?!

His wings entangled in a net, the Lieutenant plummets down, into the swarm of demons.

Before he's buried underneath the countless bodies, he catches a glimpse of the demon who attacked him.

A white-haired demon is hovering in the air, holding a familiar chained bone key.

Only then does the Lieutenant realize that Barbatos' key is no longer in his grasp. His attacker has it.

Lieutenant: Mammon...

Then the swarm overwhelms him, blocking the moonlight.

* * *

[WinglessOne: Let me just ask you straight, HarmlessHuman.]

[WinglessOne: Were you **tempting** Luke during his manifestation?]

[MC: Yes, I was!]

[MC: WinglessOne, you're pretty sharp.]

[MC: You really are an expert, just like Solomon said.]

[MC: If Diavolo doesn't give his permission to have you over as a guest lecturer, do you mind giving me a private long-distance lecture or two?]

[MC: Or three.]

[MC: Actually, why limit ourselves to any particular number?]

[MC: I can make it worth your while. There are many potential benefits for you.]

[Solomon: Siiigh...]

[WinglessOne: Which subject are you interested in?]

[MC: All sorts of subjects! But for a start...]

[MC: Can you give me a crash course on raising an angel's virtues?]

[MC: In particular, Purity.]

[WinglessOne: We're getting there. Don't be so impatient.]

[WinglessOne: All right, Luke. I think I have a good idea of what happened during your manifestation.]

[Luke: ...]

[WinglessOne: There's no need to be discouraged.]

[WinglessOne: In fact, this turn of events is **quite fortunate**.]

[WinglessOne: Traditionally, temptation is involved during an angel's ascension.]

[WinglessOne: If the trial is passed, it **increases an angel's potential**.]

[WinglessOne: However, the logistics of involving a **demon** in a manifestation, and in other ascension steps, is too complicated. So this method is usually reserved for **potential Archangels**.]

[WinglessOne: Determining an Archangel early on is quite difficult. So the temptation trial almost never happens during the manifestation of wings.]

[WinglessOne: This is why it's fortunate that it happened to you.]

[MC: See, what did I tell you, Luke!]

[MC: You have all the makings of an Archangel!]

[Luke: Can we not talk about **temptation** anymore...]

[WinglessOne: Now that I know what has transpired...]

[WinglessOne: Removing the after-effects of the temptation trial is quite easy.]

[WinglessOne: Luke just needs to use a purification bath.]

[MC: A purification bath?]

[WinglessOne: It's a ritual involving bathing in Essence.]

[WinglessOne: All the virtues that took a hit from temptation will be restored to their former state.]

[WinglessOne: Purity will be restored, and it will even rise a little.]

[WinglessOne: There's a chance other virtues will be positively affected as well.]

[WinglessOne: This ritual can be done once Luke returns to the Celestial Realm.]

[WinglessOne: We have all the facilities for it here.]

[Decimus: He can return right now. Or whenever he wants. I'm not detaining him.]

[Decimus: However, **the human stays right here**.]

[MC: It's not like I can stay forever...]

[MC: Eventually, I will have to leave.]

[Decimus: Where would you go?]

[Decimus: **There is no place for you in this world**.]

MC: ...!

[Decimus: You don't belong to **any of the worlds**.]

[Decimus: In the entire multiverse, in the infinite time and space, there is no place out there where you belong. There is no place out there that can truly appreciate you.]

[Decimus: Your place is right here with me.]

[Decimus: You're the same as me.]

[Decimus: I don't belong anywhere either.]

[MC: Decimus, you're wrong.]

Decimus: ...!

[MC: And I'll prove it to you.]

[MC: **Let's have a trial by combat**.]

[Decimus: ...What?]

* * *

Meanwhile, at an unknown location...

Surrounded by the swarm of demons, Solomon keeps working on breaking the pentagram from the inside.

Asmodeus stands outside, wringing his hands.

Asmodeus: Should I DO something? What can I DO to help?

Solomon meets his eyes, and he seems to speak. His lips are moving, but no sound crosses the border of the pentagram. He points to the right.

Asmodeus turns to the pointed direction, but can't see anything there except some incomprehensible heavy machinery.

Asmodeus: Woah, Mammon, wait —!

In an instant, Mammon is upon the generator Solomon pointed at, and he's flipping all the switches one by one.

BZZZ. HUMMM. SPARKLE, SPARKLE.

Asmodeus: Wait, you IDIOT, what if you BREAK something...!

 **KABOOM**.

The pentagram goes dark. All the glyphs spelling **imprisonment** go dark. As though blown by a gust of wind, all temporal candles are extinguished at once.

The power goes out of the pentagram.

Solomon alights on the ground. He steps forward, approaching the boundary. Without pausing, he smartly steps over the chalk boundary of the pentagram.

He is out.

The swarm of demons parts for him.

Asmodeus: Solomon! Are you all right?

Solomon: I am fine. Thank you, Asmo.

Asmodeus: Oh, Solomon!

Asmodeus throws himself at Solomon, wrapping his arms around him.

Asmodeus: I was so scared...! (sniff) I thought something might've happened to you...! (sob) It was so frightening...! (bawl)

Solomon: There, there.

Solomon tolerates Asmodeus dripping tears and snot onto his robes without a change in expression. He pats Asmodeus on the back with one hand. With his other hand, Solomon checks his D.D.D.

* * *

[Decimus: What did you just say?]

[MC: Let's have a trial by combat.]

[MC: I challenge you to a duel to resolve our game.]

[MC: If you win, I will stay here forever.]

[MC: And if I win, you will let me go.]

[Decimus: How]

[Decimus: How do you even know about **trial by combat**?]

[Decimus: Where did you hear about it?]

[MC: From you.]

[Decimus: Me?]

[Decimus: Oh.]

[Decimus: The Scales.]

[MC: Yes.]

[MC: That time, before the judge, you invoked Infernal Injunction, and you mentioned trial by combat then.]

[WinglessOne: That is a practice from the Time of Chaos.]

[WinglessOne: The Archdemons used it to settle their internal disputes.]

[WinglessOne: Infernal Injunction is no longer in use, but the practice itself **has merit**.]

[WinglessOne: We could set a precedent to use trial by combat to settle disputes.]

[WinglessOne: ...As an alternative to the Scales.]

[WinglessOne: It's always good to have an alternative, just in case.]

[Decimus: ...]

[Decimus: Very well.]

[Decimus: I have no objections.]

[MC: Then you accept my challenge?]

[Decimus: Yes, I do.]

[Decimus: I'd rather you be destroyed by my hand than by someone else's.]

[Decimus: **Let's settle this with a duel**.]

[WinglessOne: A precedent is an important occasion.]

[WinglessOne: Let's discuss the details.]

[WinglessOne has created a private chat group.]

[WinglessOne has invited me and Decimus to join the chat.]

[MC: ARGHFDHGS]

[MC: Excuse me for a moment.]

[MC: Luke is biting my D.D.D.]

* * *

Mammon: (Psst, Asmo. You were supposed to be the hero, so how did ya transform into the rescued maiden?)

Asmodeus: (sniff) (Get lost, Mammon.) (sob)

Mammon: (Let Solomon go already, you're annoyin' him.)

Asmodeus: (You're just jealous of the attention he's giving me.)

Mammon: (He's not givin' ya any attention. He's been glued to his D.D.D. this whole time.)

Asmodeus: No way!

Asmodeus disentangles himself from Solomon's robes, only to find Solomon looking at him.

Solomon: Are you feeling better now, Asmo?

Asmodeus: Y-yes...

Asmodeus: (I wonder how I look? My face isn't blotchy from tears, is it?)

Mammon: Here ya go, Solomon. One of Barbatos' goons was gonna use it on ya.

Mammon hands Solomon the chained bone key.

Solomon: Oh?

Solomon examines the key closely, then smiles.

Solomon: Very useful indeed.

Mammon: (Psst, Asmo! This is the part where you convince him to help us!)

Asmodeus: (Shhh, I'm trying to come up with a good opening!)

Solomon: Let's go.

Asmodeus and Mammon: ...!

Mammon: Go? Go where?

Solomon: We're going to pay Barbatos a visit. Hold onto my arm, Asmo.

Asmodeus: Oh — yes!

Asmodeus clutches Solomon's arm.

Mammon: Wait, I wanna go with ya too!

Solomon: Very well. Take my other arm, Mammon.

Solomon: We don't have a pact, so the transportation might feel a bit rough to you.

With a determined expression, Mammon grabs Solomon's other arm.

Solomon: Hold on tight.

The air wavers and shimmers, opening a tear in the fabric of space.

Solomon steps into that tear, taking both demons along with him.

The opening seals seamlessly behind him.

Left without Asmodeus' direction, the swarm of demons disperses.

But it takes a while before the half-squashed soldiers begin to stir again.

With a groan, the Legion Commander opens his eyes.

He sees the empty pentagram.

Quietly, he closes his eyes again.


	50. Making Preparations

Meanwhile, at the Demon Lord’s Castle...

A tear opens in space inside Barbatos' study, and Solomon steps out, Asmodeus and Mammon in tow.

They materialize right behind Barbatos.

Their arrival is completely noiseless, but Barbatos senses the movement of air behind him. He whirls around to face them.

Barbatos: ...?!

Solomon breaks the chain on the bone key, and a box manifests in the air.

Barbatos raises his hand in a futile attempt to stop Solomon.

It's too late. The lid on the box opens.

Barbatos: Stop —!

An incredible force is pulling Barbatos into the box. For a moment, he struggles against the suction. But that's a losing battle.

Barbatos turns into black smoke and is siphoned into the box.

Solomon closes the lid shut, and wraps a chain around it.

Solomon: That takes care of Barbatos.

Asmodeus and Mammon: ...

Solomon: It's a bit strange how he didn't see it coming. I expected more of a resistance.

Solomon: But perhaps Diavolo has forbidden him to use his powers again. Or maybe he has exhausted his powers. The future is always changing, after all.

Mammon: (...Asmo, say somethin'.)

Asmodeus is staring at the box in Solomon's hands, wide-eyed.

Mammon: (No good, Asmo is too shocked by how he made such a short work of Barbatos.)

Mammon: (Should I be the one to bring it up?)

Solomon: Mammon, you look like you want to say something.

Mammon: ...We're just wonderin' if ya can do somethin' about our human who got kidnapped.

Mammon: Like a summonin' or somethin'...If ya can get us into the Valley of Ruin, we'll take it from there.

Mammon: Can't ya use our pacts to help our human?

Solomon: The Abyss is a no-summoning zone.

Solomon: You can't summon anyone to the Abyss or out of it. That is the King's Decree, as strong as a metaphysical law.

Mammon: Isn't there anythin' else that can be done?

Solomon: There might be.

Solomon: Don't you share another bond with your human, other than the pact?

Mammon: Another...bond?

Solomon: That's right.

Solomon: I've heard from Levi that the three of you are **sworn allies** bound by a **blood oath**.

Asmodeus: Wait, really?

Mammon: Oh, yeah... Somethin' like that happened...Just one of those weird things Levi did.

Asmodeus: Why wasn't **I** included in the alliance?

Mammon: Trust me, you don't wanna be included. We did a full ceremony with the sword and everythin'...Still makes me shudder to remember it.

Solomon: So the three of you did, in fact, exchange blood?

Mammon: Y-yeah...

Solomon: Very good. That sounds like a proper ceremony.

Solomon: I can use that.

Mammon: REALLY?

Mammon: What can ya do with that? And what do ya need?

Solomon: I need a drop of your blood, Mammon.

Solomon: As for what I can do with that...

Solomon: You'll see.

Mammon extends his hand, and Solomon extracts a drop of his blood with a silver needle.

Mammon: (It didn't even hurt...He has a very light touch.)

The drop of Mammon's blood solidifies into a golden beryl gemstone.

Solomon looks around Barbatos' study.

Solomon: This is suitable. There is enough space.

Solomon: The two of you, go and release your other brothers, and bring them here.

Solomon: I don't need everyone, but make sure to bring back Lucifer, Satan, and Beelzebub, in this order of priority.

Solomon: In the meantime, I'll make preparations here.

Solomon: Hurry up.

Before they know it, Asmodeus and Mammon find themselves outside of the study, and the door closes behind them.

Mammon: Hey...

Asmodeus: Yeah.

Mammon: Did ya notice...?

Asmodeus: Yeah.

Asmodeus: We didn't even have to say anything to convince him to help us.

Asmodeus: What's more...he is...

Asmodeus: ...I wonder why?

Mammon: Who cares why? Saves us time.

Mammon: Ya can ponder all that later. He's right, let's hurry.

Asmodeus: Right. Lucifer and Belphie must be somewhere in this Castle.

* * *

[WinglessOne: All right, it's decided.]

[WinglessOne: The duel will be to first blood.]

[WinglessOne: There will be four rounds.]

[WinglessOne: Each round is thirty seconds long, with ten seconds break in between.]

[WinglessOne: If neither competitor manages to draw blood, we'll count the number of landed blows.]

[Decimus: I don't intend to drag this out. It won't last long.]

[WinglessOne: Then there's also the question of who will be your seconds.]

[MC: What do seconds do?]

[WinglessOne: If you ask me, they're supposed to judge the trial and make sure that the rules are followed, but...]

[WinglessOne: Trial by combat has only been used by demons so far. And demons are...demons.]

[Decimus: Seconds normally join in on the fun.]

[Decimus: They interfere to support their side if they see that things aren't going well.]

[Decimus: This is against the rules, but everyone expects this to happen.]

[WinglessOne: Since we're adapting trial by combat for resolving inter-realm disputes, we need to counterbalance certain...Infernal practices.]

[WinglessOne: Like the practice of seconds joining in the fight as they please.]

[Decimus: And how are we going to do that?]

[WinglessOne: I suggest we introduce a Celestial practice and have each second bring along an observer.]

[MC: What are observers for?]

[WinglessOne: Their job will be to keep the seconds in check. By using non-violent means.]

[Decimus: Snort.]

[WinglessOne: ...If all fails, observers will at least live to tell the tale of what has transpired during the trial.]

[MC: Sounds like fun.]

[WinglessOne: I'm glad you think so.]

[Decimus: Sounds like a mess.]

[WinglessOne: Infernal trials by combat are always a mess.]

[MC: Who will be the seconds?]

[Decimus: Traditionally, seconds should be at least as strong as the competitors.]

[WinglessOne: And since we have Avatar of Ruin as one of the competitors, that doesn't really leave a lot of options.]

[Decimus: Diavolo is kicking up a fuss. He wants to be my second.]

[MC: Are you going to let him?]

[Decimus: No. The King will be my second. I have already promised him.]

[WinglessOne: Then, I will be this human's second.]

[WinglessOne: Even without my wings, I am still the most powerful entity in the Celestial Realm.]

[MC: WinglessOne, you're coming here?]

[WinglessOne: If our host has no objections.]

[Decimus: That is fine with me.]

[WinglessOne: Then, it's settled.]

[MC: Who will be the observers?]

[WinglessOne: Traditionally, observers are anonymous. They don't show their faces, and they don't speak to the competitors.]

[MC: Decimus, what if the King brings Diavolo here as his observer?]

[Decimus: ...]

[MC: It's totally going to happen.]

[MC: I can't even imagine Diavolo's reaction if the King refuses him and brings someone else instead.]

[Decimus: ...]

[Decimus: ...It doesn't matter if he comes here.]

[Decimus: Observers are not allowed to speak to the competitors.]

[WinglessOne: Without my wings, it'll take me longer than usual to get to the Devildom.]

[WinglessOne: Give me half an hour.]

[MC: Then, I'm going to take a nap.]

* * *

_ding._

[Belphegor changed his name to Lucifer.]

[Lucifer has posted a message in the chat group "JUICY RUMORS!"]

[Lucifer: Mammon, I've just heard a most incredible, unbelievable rumor.]

[Lucifer: They say that you sold your own brother on an auction to the highest bidder.]

[Lucifer: Care to explain?]

[Mammon: Wha?]

[Mammon: No, wait! It's all a misunderstandin'!]

[Asmodeus: Mammon, you SCUM. I'm your precious little brother. How COULD you?]

[Mammon: No, Asmo, you've got me all wrong!]

[Asmodeus: I cannot be sold to any single admirer.]

[Asmodeus: I belong to EVERYONE.]

[Mammon: I'm telling ya, it's a misunderstandin'!]

[Asmodeus: Out of curiosity, who is that ultra-rich admirer who paid the "crazy amount of cash" to have me all to himself?]

[Asmodeus: If he's a good-looking one, I might consider rewarding such single-minded devotion with a night or two of sublime bliss.]

[Mammon: Asmo, you GOTTA believe me!]

[Mammon: Lucifer, I swear I never did that!]

[Mammon: Wait, Lucifer, NOOOO DON'T]

* * *

I lie down inside a garden alcove, with Luke keeping watch outside.

I take out my D.D.D. and send a message to Solomon.

[MC: Master, have you decided to accept me as your apprentice?]

I wait for a bit, but there is no response.

After a while, I open an image in my hidden folder.

It's a very simple invocation. Several glyphs are positioned in a circular fashion.

They form the sentence " **You are here**."

The sentence blurs before my eyes.

Everything blurs.

I am plunged into darkness.

MC: ...

I open my eyes.

I am inside a circular room, similar to Solomon's. Only, this space belongs to me.

This is my own room.

It is almost empty, and only a few objects are here. I haven't had this space for long.

MC: Well, here I am.

MC: Let's see what I can do to prepare.

There is a knock on my door.

MC: ...!


	51. The Visitor

I freeze, staring at the door.

MC: M-master?

Solomon: It's me. Open the door.

Solomon is HERE?

I never expected him to come. He knows about my room, but he's never shown any interest in visiting. And I had no idea that a visit was even possible without an invitation.

I am completely unprepared to receive him.

My gaze darts around the room. I should at least hide THAT.

MC: Ahaha...My room is a mess. Please wait for a few seconds while I tidy up!

I take a step away from the door, but Solomon's voice stops me in my tracks.

Solomon: No, I'd rather not wait. I want to see your room in its original state.

Solomon: If you take this apprenticeship seriously, then **open the door right now**.

Solomon: Consider this an order from your Master.

Did he HAVE to phrase it that way?

Then again, he's finally acknowledging me as his apprentice. At least that's what it sounds like to me.

Let's hope he's not going to reconsider immediately upon seeing my room...

I open the door.

MC: Come in...

Solomon enters the room and stops abruptly.

I close the door behind him, and lock it.

Solomon stares at the walls.

Solomon: Why do you have so many **pictures of Mammon** here?

MC: ...I can explain.

Solomon: They're all over the walls. There are even pictures of Mammon on the ceiling.

MC: I'm using them to heal my eyes.

Solomon: I am aware of your practice of demon-gazing, but isn't this **a bit much**? We're practically **surrounded** by Mammon. There are so many pictures, and they're all different. And...

Solomon: Wait a minute...

Solomon steps closer to the wall and scrutinizes the pictures carefully.

MC: Master, about the reason for your visit —

Solomon: Those **outfits**.

MC: ...!

MC: H-he's a very good model, isn't he? He looks good in anything.

Solomon: No, this is not the work of Majolish.

I KNEW he was going to notice.

Solomon: They look like casual clothing, something he wears every day. These are candid pictures.

Solomon: But these outfits don't belong to this potential reality.

MC: ...

Solomon: In fact, they don't look like they belong to any single potential reality.

MC: ...

Solomon: Something has just occurred to me. An idea so outrageous and preposterous that I'm hesitant to even voice it out loud.

Master, you don't sound hesitant at all...

Solomon: Have you been traveling to random alternative realities for the sole purpose of **taking pictures of Mammon**?

MC: ...

Solomon: If you haven't been doing something so **absurd** , now is a good time to mention it.

MC: ...It's not like I go there just to take pictures of him. I have to check out those realities anyway, so I might as well get something out of it.

MC: I'm working towards my goal. I'm stuck here regardless. I just want to have some fun from time to time. I need something pleasant to look at.

Solomon: Using Mammon as a travel anchor instead of Belphegor or Lucifer will bring you no closer to your goal, and you know it.

Solomon: Not to mention, some alternative realities are just plain **dangerous**. You never know which role you'll end up in once you enter. Visiting random locations unprepared and for **no good reason** is reckless. You could end up trapped in there forever.

MC: I'm always careful not to get trapped.

Solomon: Not careful enough, if **the current situation** is anything to go by.

...He got me there.

Solomon: Are you not aware of the **metaphysical strain** these excursions are causing you?

MC: I need these pictures to **recover** from the strain. You've said before that a room like this can be used for recovery, healing, and meditation. I'm using these pictures to heal myself from spiritual damage. That's a **very good reason** for taking risks. Ultimately, everything is for my goal.

Solomon: While it's remarkable that you can remember something I mentioned only once in passing, this is definitely NOT what I meant when I said that.

Solomon: And where your quest is concerned, you took too much of a **detour**. Venturing too far into uncharted territory will be a **danger to your soul**.

Solomon's gaze sweeps over the walls and the ceiling once more, and he nods, apparently reaching some decision.

Solomon: You seem to seek out dangerous situations.

Solomon: I'm starting to believe that you **enjoy suffering**.

Uh, what?

Solomon: As your Master, I will do my best to accommodate your needs.

Accommodate my **what**?

MC: What are you going to do...?

Solomon reaches towards one of Mammon's pictures.

And he **tears the picture from the wall**.

MC: ...!!

Solomon incinerates the picture in his hand. The picture is gone without a trace. Not even ashes remain.

MC: No, anything but THAT...!

Despite my weak protests and pleas, Solomon goes through the entire room, systematically tearing all pictures of Mammon from the walls, and incinerating them.

I know they're only copies, and I still have originals on my D.D.D., but still, watching this is unbearable...!

Solomon uses a spell to tear the pictures of Mammon from the ceiling.

It is just me, or does he look like he's enjoying this?

With a particular relish, Solomon tears apart a large picture of scantily clad Mammon. He takes his time to slowly incinerate it.

MC: The jewel of my collection...!

Solomon reaches for the picture of Mammon wearing a collar.

MC: No, not THAT one...!

Solomon tugs at the picture, but it wouldn't budge. It's merged with the wall.

Solomon: At least you've learned how to modify your room on the fly.

Solomon produces a poster out of thin air, and plasters it over Mammon's face.

The poster depicts a double pentagram, with 3D schematics.

MC: ...!

Solomon goes around the room, plastering various posters where the pictures of Mammon used to be.

They're schematics of defensive and offensive formations, pentacles, glyph sequences, and diagrams that I recognize as excerpts from _Maleficarum_ , _Phantasmagoria_ , and _Pandæmonium_.

As a finishing touch, he adds glowing constellations to the ceiling.

Having finished his redecoration, Solomon looks around the room with satisfaction.

Solomon: Now this looks like a proper **place of power** , rather than a **shrine of Mammon**.

I took a lot of spiritual damage in the process...

MC: Master, how could you be so cruel, even after seeing those tears in my eyes?

Solomon comes up to me and makes a show of examining my face.

Solomon: I see no tears.

MC: I am crying on the inside!

Solomon's gaze is drawn to something to my right. I follow the direction of his gaze.

He's looking at the coffee table, where the black rose is placed.

A few petals have fallen from the rose, but it's not close to wilting yet, even though a year is supposed to have passed.

Solomon looks away from the rose without comment. He moves past the coffee table and approaches the mirror with an amber frame that is suspended in the air.

Solomon examines the mirror.

MC: Ah, that —

Solomon: Impressive.

Did he say **impressive**?

I approach him and stand by his side, looking in the mirror.

Nothing is reflected in the mirror at all. I can't see my reflection, and I can't see Solomon's reflection either.

There's nothing to be impressed by.

MC: I tried to make this mirror several times, but even after following the guidelines as described in _Phantasmagoria_ and all the referred manuscripts, I couldn't get it to work.

MC: I spent a ton of power stones on it, too. What a waste.

MC: Actually, I made this room in the first place because I was hoping to use it as a base for creating this mirror.

MC: So, after repeated failures, out of frustration, I just turned the whole place into, well...

I give Solomon a sideways glance.

MC: Into a shrine of Mammon.

Solomon snorts.

I look away from him and stare at the blind mirror.

MC: I must have made a mistake somewhere in the formation. I can't see magic, so I don't know what I did wrong.

Solomon: There are no errors in the base formation.

Solomon: You just lack experience, so you couldn't build upon it.

Solomon: That, and you ran out of power.

Solomon takes a rosary out of his pocket.

MC: ...!

MC: Wait, this is only a mirror. It's not even that useful. You don't have to spent your reserves —

Solomon raises his hand, and the beads on the rosary shatter.

The room is momentarily plunged into darkness. Light returns slowly, lanterns struggling against oppressive shadows. I can see Solomon pouring dark power into the mirror.

Solomon: It is done.

I look in the mirror.

There, I see my reflection.

I look the same as usual, except that I have a pair of grand golden wings.

And next to me stands Solomon.

There is nothing different about his reflection, except that shadows cling to him like a cloak, whirling around him.

MC: Incredible. This is really the Mirror of Truth. It really works! You're amazing, Master...!

Solomon: Yes, yes.

MC: This is awesome! Now, I finally can...

_I can see who I am._

Solomon: You should have told me sooner that you were having difficulties with this.

MC: I was hoping to impress you with the finished instrument.

MC: Then, it would've been a good opportunity to bring up the apprenticeship request...

Well, nothing went as planned.

Our eyes meet in the mirror. For a moment, the shadows around Solomon seem to lighten.

Solomon: Give me your hand.

I give him my hand, and he taps my wrist lightly. Nothing seems to be happening according to my own vision, but it's different in the mirror. A sinister, predatory-looking shadow detaches itself from Solomon, and it bites my reflection's hand.

I feel a touch of cold.

The shadow returns to Solomon's side, merging back into his swirling cloak of darkness.

A mark appears on my wrist, an image of chameleon.

As I watch, the image begins to move. The chameleon mark skitters up my arm, up my neck, up my face, and settles on my forehead.

MC: Woah!

In the mirror, the reflection of my wings is fading. Gradually, the wings disappear entirely until only my own reflection remains.

Solomon: This mark will hide your angelic acquisitions from the eyes of others, be they demons or angels, or anyone or anything else.

Solomon: The concealment will persist until you invoke your wings. Of course, once the wings are out, it would be impossible to hide them.

Solomon: I suggest you refrain from invoking your wings in front of whoever the Wingless One brings along as an observer. Unless you wish to be interrogated by the Inquisitors instead of Raphael.

MC: I'll have to use **something** during the trial. And right now, these wings are my best weapon.

Solomon: You won't need the wings. You'll be using something else.

MC: ...?

Solomon: Now is a good opportunity to learn something with an immediate practical application.

Solomon: It's time for our lesson.

MC: Really?

MC: Then, have you finally decided to accept me?

Solomon: ...I am here, am I not?

All right, let's finalize this relationship before he has the time to change his mind!

MC: Let's make it official. I want to have the apprenticeship rite.

Solomon: ...Right **now**?

MC: Why, are you planning on changing your mind?

Solomon: Now is not the time for the rite.

MC: Then, when?

Solomon: If you win the trial, I'll consider it.

MC: **Consider**? Master, are you postponing again...?!

Solomon: What's the point of officially accepting someone who might become a prisoner of the Valley forever?

MC: If you accept me, I am definitely NOT going to lose. There is no way your official apprentice could lose against anyone!

Solomon: Hush now. We're running out of time.

Solomon: If you want to win that trial, you need to pay attention now.

Solomon: I am going to teach you about demonic possession.


	52. Mammon's Reward

Meanwhile, at the Demon Lord’s Castle...

Asmodeus: (sniff) Lucifer, I thought I'd never see you again! (sob) I was so scared! (bawl)

Lucifer: ...

Asmodeus: (sniff) Let me tell you, I was held in a most DREADFUL place! (sob) It didn't even have a mirror! (bawl)

Lucifer: ...

Mammon: Asmo, since Lucifer can't bring himself to act affectionate, want your sweet big brother here to comfort ya instead?

Mammon: Here, I'll pat your head.

Asmodeus: I don't want comfort from a scum brother who tried to auction me off to the highest bidder.

Mammon: C'mon, I've already explained a hundred times that it was all a ruse for the guards. There was never any auction.

Asmodeus: Get your hands off my head, Mammon, you're messing up my hairstyle. Lucifer, comfort me!

Belphegor: Are you done with your touching reunion now?

Mammon: You're jealous or somethin', Belphie? Let your big brother give ya a hug too.

Belphegor: No thanks.

Lucifer: ...Enough of this, Asmo. Get off me.

Belphegor: Are we flying or what?

Lucifer: We are.

Lucifer: Mammon and Asmo, you're staying here. Go and help Solomon with his preparations.

Lucifer: Belphie and I are enough for sieging the Citadel.

* * *

Meanwhile, at an unknown location...

Asmodeus' former entourage has dispersed, but three demons gather together.

They're the former guards and the overseer of the Eternal Keep's plaza tower where Asmodeus was held.

Ex-overseer: Well, that was a huge scam. All the Grimm I received turned out to be a bunch of dry leaves. So much for getting filthy rich. It was just an illusion. Although it was fun while it lasted...

Ex-guard #2: My gold coin turned into a worthless pebble, too. If I knew he was Mammon, I never would've listened to him. Everyone knows he's not interested in recruitment, and he doesn't reward his followers either.

Ex-guard #1: ...

Ex-guard #2: Hey, say something too.

Ex-guard #2: Wait. What's that in your hand?

Ex-guard #2: Why do you still have that pebble? Just throw it away.

Ex-guard #1: No. I'm keeping it.

Ex-guard #2: ...You think it's some sort of **souvenir** , or something? Or maybe a **promise**?

Ex-guard #1: ...

Ex-guard #2: I'm telling you, it's Mammon. He's all talk and no substance. Clinging to his promises will do you no good. Following Mammon will be your downfall. Get rid of that pebble already, and move on.

Ex-guard #2: Here, I'll help you.

The second ex-guard snatches the pebble away.

Ex-guard #1: Give it back!

The second ex-guard takes flight, and he hovers above, out of reach, the pebble in his hand.

Ex-guard #2: You'll thank me later.

With a fast movement, the second ex-guard flings the pebble into the ravine.

Ex-guard #1: My — **gold coin**!

Ex-guard #2: ...?!

Ex-guard #2: You idiot, what are you doing...?!

The first ex-guard dashes after the pebble, and jumps down into the ravine.

He rolls down through the bushes and tall grass, down and down, until he reaches the very bottom.

He is unharmed by the fall. Frantically, he looks around.

There, ahead, he thinks he can see a flash of gold.

Perhaps it's a gold coin, rolling, reflecting the moonlight. Or perhaps it's a pebble that has no value at all.

The first ex-guard chases after it.

As he's getting closer, the glow is getting brighter and brighter. But he no longer cares if it's only an illusion of untold riches. He just wants his pebble back. The one that Mammon picked up and gave him.

The one that still carries the warmth of Mammon's touch...

The glow is REALLY bright now. It even overwhelms the moonlight.

Some sort of shining object is emitting that glow.

The pebble rolls until it reaches the shining object, and stops.

Ex-guard #1: Gotcha!

His hand outstretched, the first ex-guard lunges forward and snatches the pebble.

Then he looks up, squinting at the source of the glow.

Ex-guard #1: Is that... a sword?

The strange shining object is definitely a sword. What's more, it seems to be a Celestial artifact. The sword looks like it broke off a larger object, and fell from the sky. It is half-buried in the ground, almost completely concealed in the tall grass. Even with the glow, it can only be spotted up close.

There are shouts coming from behind him. The second ex-guard, who has wings, flew down the ravine, and brought along the ex-overseer.

Ex-overseer: I see him. Over there.

Ex-guard #2: Are you all right?!

They're coming closer.

Ex-overseer: There he is, and looks completely unharmed, too. He's just got a bit of grass on him. What was the point of yelling so dramatically about his "downfall"?

Ex-guard #2: Are you really unharmed?

Ex-guard #1: ...I'm fine.

Ex-guard #2: You're lucky you didn't break any bones...!

Ex-guard #2: ...Look, I'm sorry I threw that thing away. I didn't realize you were so...attached to it.

Ex-guard #2: Come on, I'll get you out of here. The walls are too steep, there's no way you can climb back out on your own.

But the first ex-guard doesn't move. He doesn't look away from the shining sword.

The sword is hard to spot. If he looks away even for a moment, it might really disappear.

Ex-guard #2: I hope you aren't thinking of searching for it here. The grass is too tall, and there are countless pebbles all over the place. You'll never find it.

The first ex-guard tightens his grip on the pebble.

Ex-guard #1: I have already found it.

The second ex-guard and the ex-overseer alight right next to him.

Now, they're close enough to spot the shining object.

Ex-overseer: Wait a minute...

Ex-guard #2: Woah! What's that?

The ex-overseer approaches the shining broken sword and examines it. His expression turns serious.

Ex-overseer: Listen closely, both of you. Because this time, it's for real.

Ex-overseer: All three of us, **we're going to get filthy rich**.

Ex-guard #1: You mean, this shining sword is worth something?

Ex-overseer: If this is what I think it is, it's worth a **crazy amount of cash**.

Ex-overseer: But this thing is too hot. We can't handle it on our own. We need the help of an Avatar.

Both the ex-overseer and the second ex-guard look at the first ex-guard.

Ex-guard #2: You have Mammon's contact number, don't you? I've seen you talking to him before we approached this base.

Ex-guard #1: So what if I do?

Ex-overseer: I will acknowledge that I was wrong about Mammon. This is a real find, a treasure you don't stumble upon every day.

Ex-overseer: It seems he really intends to reward you.

Ex-overseer: Put us in contact with him. Tell him we've got a treasure to sell.

Ex-overseer: If I'm not mistaken, this sword will fetch a **very good price**. And Mammon is bound to give a percentage cut to his followers who found it.

Ex-guard #1: The two of you are his **followers** , now?

Ex-overseer: ...We can be useful. I can help out with the deal. As a necromancer, I can conjure up undead guards. If there's an auction, guards will be helpful. I also have a very good eye.

Ex-guard #2: Yeah, I can help too! I can talk to potential customers, and keep order. I have wings, so I can serve as a messenger too. I'm pretty mobile.

Ex-overseer: Mammon made promises to us too, you know.

Ex-guard #2: Without our help, he never would've released Asmodeus.

Ex-guard #1: ...Fine.

Ex-guard #1: But whatever profit we're getting, I want 80% of it.

The ex-overseer and the second ex-guard exchange glances.

Ex-overseer and Ex-guard #2: Deal.

* * *

Meanwhile, at the Legion’s Citadel...

KABOOM. KABOOM. **KABOOM**.

Satan: Did you hear that?

Beelzebub: I heard it.

Satan: What do you think is going on?

Beelzebub: The Citadel is under attack.

Satan: Yes, those sound like aerial strikes.

Beelzebub: Do you think Lucifer is here?

Satan: Most likely.

Satan: Took him **long enough**.

Beelzebub: Let's go and meet him outside.

The two of them leave the cell and move up the prison staircase.

They're prepared to fight the guards, but there is no need for that. All the guards are still at their posts, clutching their weapons, but they're fast asleep.

The entire prison is sleeping.

Beelzebub: It looks like Belphie is here too.

Satan does not reply. Up ahead, the moonlight illuminates the completely wrecked prison gate. Rather than a sealed gate, it is now more of a gap in the wall.

They walk through it, and emerge out of the underground prison.

The shadow of Lucifer's wings falls upon them from above.

* * *

 _ding_.

Mammon has sent a direct message to Decimus.

[Mammon: Yo, Decimus. Is this the genuine article?]

[Mammon has sent a picture of a shining broken sword.]

[Decimus: Yes. This is the pendulum sword, the only intact fragment of the broken Scales of Judgement.]

[Decimus: I saw it break off and fly away. I thought it might have fallen somewhere upon the territory of the Devildom.]

[Decimus: So you're the one who found it.]

[Mammon: Is it worth anythin'?]

[Decimus: Yes, quite. Both the Celestial and the Infernal realms would be interested in purchasing it. There is no upper limit on the price.]

[Mammon: Thanks a bunch.]

[Mammon: I'm goin' to put it up for auction.]

[Mammon: Here's your V.I.P. invitation, if you'd like to particulate.]

[Mammon: I'm waivin' your entrance fee, and your expert discount is included.]

[Mammon: This should give you a jump on any Celestial bidders, if you're interested.]

[Mammon has sent a V.I.P. auction invitation.]

After a moment's reflection, Decimus forwards the invitation to the Demon King.

* * *

 _ding_.

Mammon has sent a direct message to Asmodeus.

[Mammon: Hey, Asmo! Not cool! Not cool at all!]

[Asmodeus: What is it, Mammon? I'm busy helping Solomon.]

[Mammon: What did ya tell Solomon about me?!]

[Mammon: Have ya been complainin' about that auction again? I told ya, it was just a ruse to save ya! Ya should be grateful to your big brother, not complainin'!]

[Mammon: Were ya slanderin' my good name, tellin' stories about me?]

[Asmodeus: I have no idea what you're talking about.]

[Mammon: Oh, YEAH?]

[Mammon: Then why is Solomon GLARING DAGGERS at me?!]

[Mammon: He was perfectly fine with me when we left to find Lucifer! What has changed?]

[Mammon: Now, when I asked him if I could help with somethin', he said, "You've done **enough** ," and he GLARED at me.]

[Mammon: I thought my entrails were gonna turn into ice!]

[Mammon: What did I do to piss him off, huh?]

[Mammon: It was ya, wasn't it? Ya said somethin'!]

[Asmodeus: I didn't say anything.]

[Asmodeus: Solomon must have finally realized what a lowlife you are.]

[Mammon: He said it won't be **necessary** for me to participate in the ritual, either!]

[Mammon: It was you, Asmo, I know it! Ya did somethin'!]

[Mammon: Hey, Asmo, don't ignore me!]

[Mammon: Answer me, Asmo!]


	53. Juggernaut of the Abyss vs. Human Representative: Round One

You have to hand it to Decimus. Even though he's sure of his victory, you can't say he's taking this challenge lightly. He's created an actual arena for it, complete with sand and seats for the audience.

And right now, the audience has begun to arrive.

An unfamiliar demon appears, in a nondescript human form. He's wearing a hooded cloak that hides his face. This must be Abaddon, the Demon King.

Abaddon brings along something that I, at first, mistake for a very large package. Upon closer inspection, the package turns out to be a demon, but wrapped up completely in a cloak, tied up, and gagged. Only his eyes are uncovered underneath the hood. For a brief moment, our eyes meet.

That's Diavolo.

As expected, Abaddon brought Diavolo along as his observer. And evidently, he took some measures to make sure Diavolo can do nothing but observe.

Abaddon takes his seat, and drops Diavolo into a seat next to his own.

The Celestial company is next to arrive.

Two hooded angels appear, in their human forms. At a glance, I can tell which one of them is Michael, because he immediately leaves his companion and strides over to the arbiter's place, where Decimus has installed an imposing gong.

Michael takes his place next to the gong with an air of someone who belongs there.

At this moment, Luke flutters over to him and begins to speak expressively. I can't hear what he's saying. Michael gestures once, interrupting him, and Luke reluctantly moves away, taking his seat next to the other angel.

Michael's voice sounds clearly over the arena.

Michael: We'll be holding the trial here, instead of Maar's Arena. However, this is Decimus' home territory, so restrictions are necessary in order to create a level playing field.

Wow, no kidding, he has a pleasant voice! It really draws attention to itself.

Michael: Decimus is not permitted to use the Source during the trial to change the surroundings or himself. The Demon King has already put the restraints upon him.

Michael: The trial is to first blood. There are four rounds, each round thirty seconds long, with ten seconds break in between. If neither competitor draws blood, we'll tally the landed blows.

Michael: Juggernaut of the Abyss vs. human representative, to decide the possession of the human's soul.

Michael: **Let the trial by combat begin**.

Decimus and I enter the arena, facing each other.

Decimus is wearing his full armor and wielding his halberd, looking like he's just stepped off that engraving.

Decimus: Do you know why you're going to lose?

MC: Is it because I'm weaker than you?

Decimus: Yes, that is why. However, it's not just the matter of physical strength. The trial tests the **strength of our convictions**.

Decimus: And my convictions are stronger than yours.

MC: Why do you say that?

Decimus: Because I know exactly what I want. **I want you to stay here with me**.

Decimus: But you don't know whether or not you want to leave.

MC: ...!

Decimus: You are not sure if there's anything for you out there, in this multiverse.

Decimus: Your doubt will result in your loss.

MC: That might be the case, but it's not **my** convictions that are going to be put to the test.

MC: Whether I stay here or leave, I will let **them** decide.

Decimus: Them...?

Decimus: I hope you know that the Abyss is a no-summoning zone.

MC: Of course, I know that. But there are other ways to draw on a demon's strength.

Decimus: Other ways? Do you mean...?

Michael: **Round one**.

There is a deep sound of gong.

Decimus raises his halberd. I raise my hand.

On my palm, there is a pentacle, which Solomon has painstakingly painted with a silver needle.

Decimus closes the distance between us. In a blur of a movement, he's right in front of me. His halberd descends upon me.

MC: **Take over, Beelzebub**.

A strange feeling surges into me, starting from my palm. I'm losing control of my body. Another entity takes control —

— **I take control of this body** , and meet Decimus' halberd with my manifested glaive.

Decimus: ...Possession?

Instantly, I am forced on the defensive. Under Decimus' continuous onslaught, it's all I can do to keep my ground. His strikes carry such force and speed that, even with all my training, I barely manage to parry.

The distance is too close. I need to increase the distance.

I take a few steps back.

Decimus: Using Beelzebub was a mistake.

I have only two tasks here. The first: do not let him strike my human host. The second: breach his armor.

Decimus: Between you and Lilith, who do you think he'd choose?

There is an odd lag in my senses, like a knot in my connection to my human host.

I stumble and nearly fall. I use my insectoid wings to restore my balance. Decimus' blade swings a hairsbreadth from my arm.

That was close.

I can't leave this unanswered. I must say something.

Beelzebub: I don't have to choose.

Decimus laughs in triumph.

I can feel the connection to my human host faltering, making my senses fuzzy, draining strength out of my body.

I've said something wrong.

I need to go on offensive, but I can see no opening. Decimus' weapon moves so fast, it's like a wall of steel. Or perhaps my human host is rejecting me, and it's slowing down my reflexes.

Now or never. I rush forward with all my strength. The ground cracks under my footsteps.

I strike, and Decimus meets my glaive with his halberd.

There is a sound of thunder and a shower of sparks. For a moment, our weapons meet in the middle, in perfect balance.

Decimus: Suppose they could bring Lilith back to life by sacrificing you.

Decimus: Would Beelzebub stop this sacrifice, or would he stand aside and let it happen?

The balance tips. I am being forced down. The connection to my human host is breaking.

Decimus: You know the answer, don't you?

I can't channel through enough of my power.

Decimus: **He's already made his choice**.

With a last, desperate movement, I take flight and turn my body sideways.

Decimus' halberd narrowly misses my face and the blunt shaft strikes my shoulder. I am thrown back onto the sand.

**DONG.**

The deep sound of gong reverberates through my bones.

Michael: **End of round**.

I stare up at Decimus, who has stopped in mid-motion.

The round is over.

All I have achieved is stopping him from drawing our human's blood.

I had two tasks: breach his armor, and do not let him strike my human host. I have failed in both.

So this is the power of Nightmare, Avatar of Ruin, Left Hand of Disaster, Juggernaut of the Abyss, Founder of Maar, Artisan of Aspire Ridge...

The Prince of Lies.


	54. Juggernaut of the Abyss vs. Human Representative: Round Two

Michael: Neither opponent has drawn blood. One — zero, Juggernaut leads.

Michael: Ten seconds break begins now.

**DONG.**

I fumble with my D.D.D.

**Ten, nine.**

_You are here._

**Eight, seven.**

I am back in my place of power. I stumble towards the mirror and clutch the frame, my eyes closed.

I am afraid of what I might see there.

The way you see yourself. The way others see you. And the way you truly are. The last one is reflected in this mirror.

Yet, all three affect each other.

If I open my eyes, will I see the angel girl with white wings, looking back at me?

Am I truly removed from existence?

Did I ever exist in the first place?

The way Beel sees me...

**Six, five.**

Choosing Beel was a mistake. Solomon was the one who suggested it, so I accepted it despite my misgivings. But there are things he doesn't know.

Before, Decimus used Beel's form in front of me. He's already met Beel, perhaps in Belphie's dreams. Decimus knows all about Beel's close bond with his sister. This is a vulnerability just begging to be exploited.

The lack of affinity weakens possession. What I felt was an utter disconnect. The way Beel sees me, and the way I see myself, they couldn't be any more different. Beel's eyes are the worst possible mirror for me.

He thinks he doesn't have to choose. He thinks he can have both. He thinks I am someone who will be happy to share the dinner table with Lilith. He doesn't realize that she is the enemy of my very existence.

Or perhaps he doesn't care.

**Four, three.**

Who should I choose next? Which one of them do I have the closest relationship with?

_None of them._

_There is nothing for me out there._

_None of them can truly understands me._

Never mind that. Which are my top three Sins again?

Pride, Greed...Wrath.

The last one sounds good right now.

It was a mistake to choose Beel. **Why did he even let Decimus talk**?

**Two.**

I open my eyes.

It's me. I am reflected in the mirror. But — woah, I have a pair of curved horns!

Hurriedly, I wipe the lingering horns off my head, and they dissipate in my reflection.

**One.**

I open my eyes.

Michael: **Round two.**

**DONG.**

I raise my hand.

MC: Satan, my body is yours.

The pentacle scorches my palm.

Huh? Nothing has changed.

Well, except, I feel **really pissed off**.

If I'm honest with myself, I've been pissed off for a while. All that Lilith nonsense, and being unjustly murdered, and then nobody even cares about that, the whole thing discarded, no consequences...

It really makes one angry, just to think of it.

Did they really think I'd be fine with that? Do I look like a saint to you? Don't touch me so familiarly, we're not that close. You don't even know me.

After a millennia of penance, I might consider forgiving you. All of you.

Or maybe not. Maybe I'll just **make you suffer forever**. All of you.

I have too much anger, and it's been bottled up inside me for too long.

Having an opportunity to let it out...

**It's liberating.**

Before Decimus can strike at me, I lunge at him first.

I need to close the distance. His weapon has a long reach, but it'll be useless up close.

He tries to block me, but I weave through his strikes at a speed that does not belong to my human body, dodging with unnatural ease.

Within a second, I am upon him, and I latch onto his armor.

Decimus: You've made a far better choice this time. Your connection is without flaw.

We'll see if you'll have the leisure to talk after I tear apart your armor.

**I'm going to rip him to shreds.**

I claw and bite at his shoulder guard. I manage to peel and bend one of the outer armor plates.

Good, just a little more.

I gnaw on his armor.

Decimus seems reluctant to cleave me with his halberd. Precise strikes with a reach weapon are difficult at such close quarters, and he must be worried about damaging my human host's body too much with that transcendent weapon of his.

Instead, he grabs me by the horns, evidently intending to tear me off his body and throw me.

**I don't think so.**

I wrap my tail around his arm, taking him by surprise. A lot of people don't notice my tail until it's too late.

Before I can crush his arm, he smashes my tail with a single strike.

Hmph, good luck with that. There's no blood inside my skeletal tail. And I'm already regenerating it, wrapping it around his halberd.

I'm chewing methodically through his armor.

Decimus has finally decided to use his halberd, but he's got his hands full disengaging it from my tail.

Finally, he grabs me by the tail and rips me off his shoulder. He swings me, with a clear intention of tossing me as far as he can.

Before he can release me, I detach my tail.

He didn't expect that, and he loses his balance momentarily.

I turn in midair, summon demon gel with both hands, and fling it at his helmet.

He shouts in outrage. The demon gel has plastered all over his visor, blocking his sight. Instinctively, he tries to wipe it off.

I land on his back, and sink my claws into his armor again, while he whirls around, trying to grab me.

I peel off the last plate shielding his shoulder, and bend it at a precise angle.

Now, I might even be able to draw his blood...!

The gap in armor reveals sapphire scales underneath.

...Or not. Those scales aren't something I can get through with my teeth and claws.

But that doesn't mean I'm not going to TRY.

Satan: (CHOMP)

Giving up on finesse, Decimus flings himself backwards to the sand, intending to slam me.

The next few seconds are a blur. There is no possibility of using any tactics at this point. I am vaguely aware of trying to strangle Decimus with my tail, while he's broken off one of my horns. I gnaw upon his halberd; he smashes my tail into fragments, again. I regenerate it, again. He pummels me into the sand; I lash, kick, and claw.

 **DONG**.

I ignore the annoying noise. I am not done yet —!

With an incredible force, someone grabs me by my tail and hauls me away from my opponent.

**Who dares interfere?**

I bend my body around like a snake, prepared to sink my claws into the interloper.

It's Michael.

Oh. That sound. It must have been the gong.

The round is over.

Even though it's infuriating, I allow Michael to haul me off to my corner.

On the opposite side, I can see Abaddon doing the same to Decimus.

I can't believe it's already over. I was just starting to get into it. Why are these rounds so short? Any chance I can get picked again for the next round?

Michael drops me on my bench, and returns to his arbiter seat.

Michael: **End of round**. As strange as it sounds, neither opponent managed to draw blood. And now...

Michael: We're going to take a short break in order to count the number of landed blows.

Immediately, there is a furious argument I cannot hear between Abaddon and the unknown angel observer. The angel is gesturing rapidly; Abaddon shakes his head, scoffs, and holds out his hands, apparently showing some number.

Luke joins the argument, enlivening it greatly. He flutters around, waves his arms, and unfolds what looks like a long scroll with notes.

The angel observer nods, and raises his hands to heaven. Abaddon spreads his arms, pointing down, in a dramatic gesture I recognize: he's calling the dead deities to witness.

They can't seem to come to an agreement. Michael, who's been watching them, apparently realizes it at the same time as I do.

Michael: Let's clarify a few things, one by one.

Michael: First of all, the definition of a landed blow, according to Maar's archives. It's a forced physical contact, not blocked by a weapon or a shield, which either does visible damage or makes the opponent lose stance.

Michael: Biting, scratching, gnawing — none of that counts, unless the armor is breached. Spitting only counts if the acid damage burns through the armor and damages the skin underneath.

Michael: Smashing the opponent's tail does count. Yes, a tail can be used as a weapon, but it's a part of a demon's body. No, it doesn't matter if the tail is grown back. Even if it's a detachable tail, it's still a part of a demon's body.

Michael: Gnawing on the opponent's halberd doesn't count. I can't believe we're even discussing that. I've said before that strikes blocked by a weapon don't count. No, it doesn't matter if he's so good at wielding his halberd that it's like an extension of his own body.

Michael: Throwing only counts if the body hits an obstacle as a result. If the thrown opponent doesn't go anywhere, and isn't fazed by the throw, this is only an attempt at a blow.

Michael: A broken horn very much counts. The demon gel, while annoying, does not really do any damage, and thus doesn't count.

Michael: Next, about gnawing on the skin protected by the scales, and about kicking, lashing, and strangling someone while rolling on the sand...

That sounds like it might take a while. I take out my D.D.D.

On the other side of the arena, Decimus took off his helmet, and he's furiously trying to wipe the colorful demon gel off his visor.

_You are here._

I examine myself in the mirror.

It's me. With a few extras.

I hope his broken horn grows back again.

More importantly, this skeletal tail...I'm really reluctant to part with it. I wish I could keep it a bit longer. Fighting with it was very satisfying.

But even as I admire the tail, it begins to fade away.

I open my eyes just in time.

Michael: Five — two, Juggernaut leads.

Michael: We're forgoing the ten seconds break.

Michael: **Round three**.

 **DONG**.

Giving up on cleaning up his visor, Decimus tosses the splattered helmet to the ground, and enters the arena with his face uncovered.


	55. Juggernaut of the Abyss vs. Human Representative: Round Three

The pentacle on my palm is throbbing. It's a disconcerting sensation, like something is chewing on my hand. There are still two more rounds left, but I can only manage one more possession.

Who should I choose?

Mammon or Lucifer?

Solomon suggested Lucifer. Even though we've had no rite yet, I'd like to follow his suggested order. Solomon said he's already discussed this with everyone, and this was the decision reached.

I consider Mammon for a moment anyway.

I try to imagine Mammon coming face to face with Decimus.

MC: ...

I imagine Mammon listening to Decimus' poisonous words.

MC: (I don't think so.)

I don't want Mammon to know the dark thoughts in my mind, or the dark feelings in my heart. Decimus only needs to say a few words to reveal everything.

If possible, I'd like to shield at least Mammon from the worst of it. And besides...

I want to see what Lucifer has in mind.

Decimus brandishes his halberd. I stretch out my hand.

MC: Lucifer, I give myself to you.

A scorching heat sears my hand. The pentacle flares and disappears. I won't be able to invoke another possession.

 **I won't need another one**. I will finish it in this round.

How strange. I feel no different.

But Decimus assumes a defensive battle stance.

This is the first time he's done that. I must intimidate him.

I unfold my black wings.

There is no need to use Michael's wings. I have my own. Michael has a better wingspan, and more raw power, but I surpass him in control and maneuverability, even now.

There is a good chance this invocation might fail, but...

...Just as expected, my black wings manifest without any problem.

This really is strange. I expected more of a resistance from my host. One of us would have to be in charge, and it would certainly be me. But there is no conflict at all. I can't tell my host's thoughts apart from my own. I am myself, and I am Pride at the same time.

So this is what the perfect connection feels like.

I take flight.

Hovering above, I observe the battlefield, and Decimus himself, in detail.

Decimus is missing his helmet. His face is revealed. His skin is metallic grey, the familiar tint of adamantine. He has turned himself into a living weapon.

His outer armor has been breached on his shoulder. He is aware of the breach, but not worried. He has two more layers of armor underneath: his scales, and his adamantine skin.

One plate of the breached outer armor is bent at a precise angle.

Very good. It looks like Satan has done his part.

There isn't much time, but I don't need much. I will finish this in an instant.

In my left hand, I manifest a meteor hammer. In my right hand, I manifest a spear.

Decimus is looking up at me. He is watching my every movement.

He has every reason to be worried.

On this battlefield, just like on any battlefield, I am superior.

I dive down upon him, and he swings his halberd in a deadly blocking circle.

I swing my meteor hammer at him. It's an unpredictable weapon. Normally I don't base my attacks on luck. But I thought that introducing an element of chaos into this confrontation would be fitting.

Decimus decides not to dodge. He takes my attack head-on, trying to slice through the chain.

It almost works. Then the meteor hammer changes its trajectory.

It wraps itself around Decimus' halberd and his arm, completely ensnaring both. I yank at the chain.

For a moment, his blocking stance is broken.

I strike at Decimus with my spear from above.

Deciums starts raising his left hand.

I can see through his intentions. He is planning to stop my strike by grabbing my spear. He has immense speed and strength. No doubt he has the ability to do it.

Halfway through the movement, his hand comes to a halt.

That breached armor plate, bent at an angle, **has jammed his armor at his shoulder**.

He can't raise his left hand above his head.

His eyes widen.

He thought that Satan made that breach in order to draw his blood, not to tamper with his armor. Even during that long break between rounds, he's been too distracted by his splattered helmet, and didn't think to check how his armor was affected by the breach. I noticed it before, during the Eye of the Abyss confrontation — Decimus is a bit of a clean freak. He doesn't like the clarity of his vision messed with.

Now, Decimus has realized his mistake. Now, he knows that he is trapped. I have his right hand ensnared, and his left hand is useless against aerial attacks.

With his whole strength, he yanks back at the chain. He's planning to drag me down to the ground.

I give into his pull, allowing it to speed up my strike.

The shining tip of my manifested spear reaches his unprotected face.

Decimus tilts his head sideways.

Too late.

My spear slices through the adamantine skin of his face.

It's just a tiny slice, almost unnoticeable, like a paper cut.

A single drop of amber blood wells up on Decimus' cheek.

**GONG.**

Michael: **End of round**.

I let go of my manifested spear, letting it dissolve into Prime.

I let go of my manifested meteor hammer, releasing Decimus from my grasp.

I alight on the ground in front of Decimus, and withdraw my black wings.

I won. Of course.

Was there ever any doubt?

Decimus stands perfectly still, his pupils constricted in shock.

Michael: Human representative has drawn blood.

Michael: End of trial. H **uman representative wins**.

Up above, the moon is fading. In the pale sky, the star of Cerberus appears — the first star of dawn in the Devildom.

Looks like it's over.

Michael: I said, **end of trial**.

Hm? What's going on?

I turn around.

Abaddon: Now wait just a **second**.


	56. Round Four

Before I can react, an invisible force propels me backwards, pushing me away from Decimus.

I restore my balance, and instinctively, I look back at him.

My eyes widen.

Something strange is happening with Decimus. Sapphire vines are growing right through his body, sharp like spikes, branching and twisting, until he is encased inside those branches whole, until he resembles a sapphire tree.

His face shows alarm, but not discomfort. His gaze moves, but the rest of him can't move. He is rooted in place.

Someone has just used Prime to immobilize him.

I don't have to guess who it was for long.

Abaddon steps onto the arena, and the barrier closes behind him, trapping the three of us inside, and blocking out everyone else.

...It looks like the Demon King, who was supposed to oversee the trial and make sure the rules are followed, took over the local Source instead, and now he's using it to do as he pleases.

This is probably some private family matter. The King wants to use this opportunity to speak to his evasive son about something. I don't want to get involved. At least, not in the matters of THIS family. Why am I here as well?

Abaddon approaches the immobilized Decimus.

As he walks, Abaddon transforms. He has become a demon with black scales and a most grandiose tail. More than any kind of demon I've ever seen, Abaddon resembles a mythical dragon.

Abaddon: Decimus, you've been overly gentle with this human. Normally, you would obliterate the vessel and pick up the soul from the ashes. Then, you would reuse the soul for ingredients.

Abaddon: I wonder what has changed. Is this because this is the first human you've ever seen? Or do you wish to keep this human as your companion?

Decimus' lips part. It seems he is able to speak.

Decimus: My King, what do you require of me?

Abaddon: We require you to call Us **Father**.

Decimus: ...

MC: (...)

I just remembered something. The Royal Decree of Silence is ineffective on the territory of the Valley of Ruin. This is one of the many exclusive exemptions the King and the Prince made for their banished family member.

No wonder the King can speak so freely...It seems he is more eager to restore Decimus' status as the Prince than I realized. Luke did mention that Decimus is his favorite...

I don't want to get involved, but I can't help but wonder. What would this mean for the Elysium-Maar Convention? Wouldn't this render the whole thing null and void? What would happen to the peace between the two realms? It doesn't sound like the King has any plan for that in place. Did the King just get sick of the whole pretense and plans to ditch it on the spot, without any sort of negotiations or alternatives at all?

There is no way, right?

The angels are still here. Couldn't the King have waited until they left to discuss this? Unless he's doing it on purpose...

Actually, where are the angels? I can't see them.

I look back over my shoulder.

Michael is right behind me, separated from me by the barrier.

He seems to be studying the barrier's formation of Prime. As I watch, he touches the barrier with his bare hand.

There is an angry hum, and darkness splashes at his hand.

Michael takes his hand away and examines it. His fingers are covered in black needles. With a flare of light, he burns them away.

The angel observer and Luke stand behind Michael in what looks like an unconscious support formation.

Where's Diavolo? I can't see him anywhere.

Abaddon: Answer Us, Decimus.

Decimus: ...You know I can't do that, my King.

Abaddon: Do it, or We will **obliterate this human**.

Decimus: ...!

...That explains why I'm here.

I'm a leverage.

Abaddon reaches out his hand and points at me.

Whoa, he has an oppressive presence. He isn't looking at me, but I can feel the focus of his power, like a sharp point of an unsheathed sword. He has a familiar pattern of Prime, similar to Decimus', but deeper, darker.

And much colder.

I don't like that the angels are on his line of strike. I try to take a step sideways.

I can't move.

MC: ...?!

Vines are growing through my shoes, wrapping around my ankles, securing me in place.

Don't tell me he also intends to eliminate the angels!

A grimace contorts Decimus' face.

Decimus: ...What of the peace treaty?

Abaddon: What good is a peace treaty if We can't have Our own son?

Decimus: Diavolo —

Abaddon dismisses Diavolo with an irritated shake of his tail.

Abaddon: We want Our first-born back.

Abaddon: We'll start over again from the beginning. And this time, you'll be there for the peace treaty. Or for the declaration of war. Either is fine with Us.

Abaddon: This time, We will do everything differently. We won't make the same mistakes again.

Abaddon: This time, you will never leave Our side.

Decimus: ...There is no rewriting the past.

Abaddon: It can be done. Today, We will rewrite it. We will return Us both to the blank state.

Abaddon: We've made Our decision. But We're not taking away your choice.

Abaddon: You can choose whether the witnesses live or die.

Abaddon: We will give you ten seconds to make your choice.

Behind me, Michael manifests a hammer, and smashes it against the barrier.

 **KABOOM**.

The barrier shakes and trembles. The hammer evaporates on contact. Michael frowns.

Twisting around, I meet his gaze and gesture frantically for him to step aside.

MC: (Get away from the blast radius! You're standing too close to me!)

Michael seems to understand what I'm trying to say, but he doesn't move from the spot. Instead, he raises both hands and starts to manifest something very glowing, of a particularly enormous shape.

MC: (Oh, come on! Move aside!)

As I point to the side, I finally see Diavolo.

MC: ...!

He has rolled off his seat, but failed to undo his restraints. He can only twitch.

MC: (Luke! Over there!)

Luke's wings are fluttering rapidly. He glances at the direction I'm pointing at.

MC: (Help Diavolo!)

Without pausing to ask for Michael's permission, Luke dashes off to Diavolo's direction.

Abaddon: What is your decision, Decimus?

Decimus: I...

Too soon. I need to buy more time.

I can't move, and only my tongue is free.

MC: Your Majesty, can't you see that Decimus is not ready? You're pressuring him into publicity too soon. If you force him, he will be unhappy.

Abaddon's tail twitches.

Decimus: ...

Abaddon: This is the matter of the Infernal Royal Family. It's not a human's place to speak. You have no right to get involved.

MC: I also didn't want to get involved, but you have involved me by taking me hostage.

Abaddon: A hostage's role is to be threatened and tremble in fear, not to speak.

MC: I am more than just a hostage. I am also Decimus' guest.

Decimus: That is true.

Abaddon: Enough of this. Decimus, give Us your answer.

MC: Can't you be a little more patient? Give him more time, he'll come around on his own.

Abaddon's tail twists.

Abaddon: How **much longer** do We have to wait?

MC: At least allow him to finish the funeral rites for all of his dead.

**KABOOM. KABOOM.**

**RUUUMBLE.**

The ground shakes. I glance back to see Michael standing with his hands empty and smoking. Once again, he has failed to break through the barrier. He is scowling now.

At the edge of my vision, I can see Luke trying to undo Diavolo's restraints.

Decimus swallows. He speaks with visible difficulty.

Decimus: The human understands me. I want to finish the funeral rites first. I am not ready yet to return. I...need more time.

Abaddon: Is this your final answer?

Decimus: ...

Abaddon: We've been patient all this time. No more. We want to restore your status now. I can't wait anymore!

Abaddon: For the last time, acknowledge your status as a Prince and my son, **or this human will perish**.

Decimus closes his eyes. His face twists in pain.

I have never seen him so distressed. For some reason, I feel an intense surge of irritation.

Being used as a tool to hurt others **really pisses me off**.

**This is not the first time it happens.**

Yet another demon wants to kill me in order to achieve his goals. Once again, I am nothing but a convenient sacrifice. Once more, I am just an instrument, to be picked up and discarded at will, weak enough that my opinion doesn't have to be taken into account.

Nothing has changed.

MC: ...

No, I am different now.

**I will make him regret picking me as a target.**

I don't know if it's an after-effect of possession, but at this single, brief moment, something changes inside me, like at a flick of a switch.

I feel...really strange.

I think...I finally know how demons feel when they lose control.

My mind is oddly clear. My emotions are not getting in the way. It's nothing like that. It's just, all my thoughts have become very narrow.

So what if he's the King? I don't care if he's the emperor of the multiverse. He has offended me. He threatened my life and tried to use me as a tool.

All I can think about is how to **make him pay**.

First things first. I need to challenge him. For that, I need his attention. He hasn't looked at me since he entered the arena. That needs to change.

I have somewhat of a natural knack for infuriating demons, without even trying. I wonder what would happen if I **try**?

MC: Old man, I didn't want to say anything bad about you, since you have such a gorgeous tail, but could it be that you've **grown senile with age**?

Decimus chokes on air. At the edge of my vision, I notice all angels freeze in the middle of motion.

Slowly, Abaddon turns his head towards me. He looks directly at me, transfixing me with his heavy azure gaze, and I smirk in satisfaction.

Abaddon: **Are you talking to Us**?

MC: Who else? You're the only old man with a gorgeous tail here.

Abaddon: **What did you just say to Us**?

MC: Old age has weakened your hearing? Should I repeat it louder?

Abaddon turns his body to face me fully, his tail rustling, coiling. I let my smirk melt off my face, revealing the anger underneath.

MC: You think you can destroy me? Could it be that because I allowed my demons to decide the outcome of this trial, you have decided that I am an **easy prey**?

MC: I am someone who exists in defiance of the laws of this multiverse. I am someone who's been erased from existence yet did not perish.

MC: I challenge you to a trial by combat, for the rights to decide the status of Decimus, Avatar of Ruin.

Abaddon: **Accepted**.

Decimus: Wait, I will —

Abaddon: **Silence** , Decimus. We **will** have this trial.

Sapphire vines wrap around Decimus' mouth, silencing him.

Abaddon: Not to worry. We won't go all out. We will deliver only one strike. A **gentle tap**.

Abaddon is smiling strangely. He definitely intends to go all out.

I am smiling too. That's exactly what I want.

Abaddon: If you can take one strike from Us, human, and still cling to your meager existence, We will grant you a say in the affairs of Our family. If not...

Abaddon: **We'll send you back to the oblivion whence you came**.

Abaddon strikes.

An azure force of annihilation emanates from him, destroying everything in its wake, and it reaches me.

I invoke my golden wings.

This is the power of an Archangel. The power that resists Disaster.

The Celestial fire incinerates my human body, burning away my vine restraints.

I spread out my golden wings, shielding the angels behind me, shielding Diavolo, still wrapped in restraints.

I shield the garden alcove, where Decimus' painting still remains, unfinished, and where the empty plate used to hold Luke's cookies still stands. I shield the wreckage of the Garden of Betrayal, where the bones of former angels are scattered, very much salvageable, according to the artist himself, and where the engraving of the battle still stands. I shield the ferocious lower demons roaming the perimeter, and the gentle, delicate flowers.

And I step forward, right into the raging azure inferno.

Abaddon's eyes widen. He didn't think I would do it. Demons never expect you to move forward. They always expect you to flee.

The azure force would've obliterated my human body on contact, but I don't have a physical form right now. I have become pure Celestial fire, and I am pouring all the power from the nucleus into these grand wings.

I'm halfway through, and I'm already running out of power. Even so, I have no intention of stopping.

This might be as far as I go. Even so, I'm not going to turn back.

I don't know how to turn back. I lost that ability long ago. Now, I can only go forward.

Just then, I feel someone pour an immense amount of power directly into my wings.

This is different from Raphael's. This power is native to the golden wings, in perfect sync with every single feather.

This is...Michael.

I cooperate with him as much as I can, while I keep moving forward, struggling against the transcendent azure winds of pure oblivion.

I am right in front of Abaddon. He stares at me, and starts raising his hand.

MC: Only one strike. You gave your word.

He freezes in the middle of the motion. I smile at him.

MC: My turn.

This might be as far as I go. But first...

I pour all of Michael's power into my right hand.

MC: Decimus said, **he needs more time**. He said, **he is not ready yet**.

MC: You can't force him, or else he won't be happy. Violence is wrong.

MC: Snap out of it, my King.

With all the force I have gathered, I punch Abaddon in the face.

There is a flash of golden light, which overwhelms the azure inferno.

As my punch connects, there is a very satisfying **KABOOM**.

I will say it once. Michael's power is incredible. Maybe, he's even stronger than Lucifer. Just a little bit.

Don't tell anyone I've thought that.

The force of my blow lifts Abaddon off his feet, and sends him flying backwards.

I stagger back under the force of recoil. I cannot revoke my wings yet. I am standing right in the epicenter of the inferno. The azure force has calmed down, but it's not gone. If my human body returns, it will only be destroyed permanently. I need to leave the affected area first.

I take a few steps, and collapse to my knees.

Azure waves rush all over me. I've been using these wings for too long. I've used up too much power.

I will not be able to return.

Perhaps, there is no way back for me. There is only nothing.

My consciousness is fading.

MC: (...)

MC: (...Who's here?)

I can feel...someone's presence next to me. I am not alone.

A demon is approaching me.

A demon lifts me up and carries me away.

The moment I am in his arms, the winds of oblivion can't reach me anymore. I feel completely safe.

I revoke my mangled golden wings, and what's left of the nucleus starts slowly restoring my human body.

My thoughts are hazy...

The demon who carries me has an aura that is completely unaffected by the azure inferno. Immunity to oblivion... I don't know anyone with a power like this.

There is something familiar about him, yet strange. Why do I feel like I know him?

I try to match the pattern of Prime.

Not Abaddon...Not Decimus. A local lower demon? But would a lower demon have such an overpowered immunity? If only I could open my eyes...

No matter. He is someone who bravely carries me out of the epicenter. He deserves a reward. I should...pet him...

With the last of my strength, I raise my hand and caress his face.

The demon gasps. It's an almost inaudible sound, and I can sense it rather than hear it, because my head is right next to his chest. I can tell at once that he is someone I've never touched before.

But I have no strength left to ask for his name. Everything is fading.


	57. Impersonator

My consciousness returns in fragments. As my vision comes into focus, I can see Decimus, still transfixed in place by sapphire branches. But now, one of his arms is almost free.

The ground seems elevated around us. Are those hills? I don't remember seeing any here before.

Michael is here too. He grips one of the sapphire branches piercing Decimus' arm with his bare hands. The branch bursts into flames, which engulf Michael's hands, scorching him. There is a smell of burning flesh. Dispassionately, Michael tears the branch out, and flings it aside. His hands are covered in blisters.

Behind Michael's shoulder, the angel observer extends his hand, and light emanates from it, completely healing Michael's hands.

Decimus: Hurry up.

Michael: Those branches are rooted within your body. I can't extract them too fast, or else my interference will cause you too much internal damage. Even now, it will take you a while to heal. Wouldn't it be faster to ask the King to release you?

Decimus: He can't. By the conditions of the trial, the King lost access to the Aspire Source the moment the fourth round was over. I am now the only one who has access to the Source. Never mind the damage, just free my arm.

Michael takes hold of another branch, which burns him viciously as he drags it out. Despite the harm the extraction must be doing him, Decimus' face doesn't show any discomfort. In fact, even his thoughts seem to be elsewhere.

Michael: I don't think the King predicted this...outcome.

Decimus: No, indeed. Not to that degree.

Luke's voice sounds nearby.

Luke: I can see the King. He's still out cold.

Is he, now? That's very satisfying.

I look in the direction of Luke's voice.

Luke is hovering above the ground, creating a pink vortex by flapping his wings. The vortex surrounds all of us like a wall, keeping some of the heat of the azure inferno at bay.

Luke has an impressive air current control. I suppose all that time struggling against the miasma vortex at the bottom of the Abyss wasn't for nothing.

And I just realized something. The ground around us is not elevated. It's the opposite.

We're at the bottom of a crater.

Where's Diavolo? Don't tell me he's still outside, alone in the azure inferno?

Surely, they couldn't have forgotten about him.

I try to speak, but my voice is too weak, barely above a whisper.

MC: Diavolo...

My vision shifts, and blurs. Am I falling?

Wait, that's not it. The demon who carried me out is still holding me. He's merely moved, drawing me closer.

The movement has disturbed my focus. My mind is becoming hazy again...

Decimus is glaring at me. No, not at me. He's glaring at the demon.

Decimus: Stand still, and hold the human steady. Nothing else is required of you.

Just then, Michael tears the last branch out of Decimus' arm.

A surge of Prime floods Decimus' hand and spreads throughout his body, melting all the branches away.

And everything changes.

The air clears. The heat of the azure inferno dissipates. It's like a heavy pressure is lifted off me.

The ground is moving. It's moving up. Decimus is terraforming the crater.

Decimus: Let go of the current, Luke.

The pink vortex scatters away. I can feel a gentle breeze on my face.

I can smell a heady fragrance of flowers.

There is no more danger. Decimus has regained control of his domain.

The tension releases me, and my consciousness fades.

...

...

MC: ...

I am lying in bed. It's very soft and comfy.

I open my eyes.

Decimus sits in a chair near my bed, wearing a loose black robe. He's studying me thoughtfully.

Decimus: You should learn mental magic.

MC: ??

Decimus: Everyone in the royal family is capable of protecting their mind, except you. This makes it difficult to share secrets with you.

Please don't group me together with the royal family so conversationally. It's terrifying. And I don't want to learn any dangerous secrets, either. I can barely cling to my human life as it is.

MC: Nah, I'm good.

Decimus folds his arms.

Decimus: What if I told you that because you can't protect your mind, I had to remove one of your memories?

MC: What? Which one? Is that something important?

Decimus: Nothing **important**. It's completely **insignificant**.

Decimus' tone is dismissive.

MC: ...

The removed memory is definitely something **crucial**. That's not a good news.

Decimus: But if you learn mental magic, I'll be happy to give you your **insignificant** memory back. Even though it's completely not worthy of notice.

MC: ...At least give me a hint of what it's about.

Decimus: Do you remember what happened after you punched the King?

MC: ...

I don't. I search my memory, and come up empty. Everything after that is blank.

Wait.

MC: Where's Diavolo?

Decimus: !

Decimus: ...Why are you asking about him?

MC: What do you mean, why? Was he still tied up when the King unleashed his power? Did something happen to him?

Decimus: ...

MC: Why are you silent?

Decimus doesn't reply. He is scrutinizing me.

Where's my D.D.D.? I don't really like the idea, but perhaps I should call Diavolo directly, just to check on him.

Only for a second or two. If he replies, I'll just hang up.

Just then, Decimus speaks again.

Decimus: I did not realize you were so attached to Diavolo.

...Just what is he imagining?

MC: You don't understand.

I sit up on my bed in agitation.

MC: If something happens to Diavolo while I'm present, **Lucifer will take my head off**.

MC: I don't even have an excuse. I was **right there**.

MC: The King was knocked out, you were immobilized, and I was indisposed. Who was protecting Diavolo?

Decimus: Why do you think he needs protection?

MC: You said it yourself. He's a non-combatant.

Decimus: ...

Decimus looks like he wants to say something, but stops himself.

MC: The metaphysical damage from the King's power will definitely reach across all possible worlds. If Diavolo was caught up in it, he might end up injured, or worse.

MC: And it would be my fault. Things tend to happen when I'm around. But this time was worse than any other time. I provoked the King on purpose!

Decimus: And you got the brunt of it. Everyone else emerged unscathed. Including Diavolo.

I scrutinize at him for a moment. He looks back at me calmly.

MC: He really is all right?

Decimus: Not a scratch on him.

MC: Why didn't you say so from the start!

MC: ...Wait, what about Luke?

Decimus: Now you remember him? He's reporting to Michael.

Decimus: Although, it would be more accurate to say he's being **interrogated**.

MC: So the angels are all right, too?

Decimus: Yes, they are all fine.

Decimus: Are you at ease now?

MC: What about you? Are you unharmed?

Decimus: !

MC: ?

Decimus: ...The King never intended to harm me from the start.

What an evasive answer.

I study him carefully. The robe reveals his arms, but I don't see any damage from the branches.

Decimus: Would you like a closer look?

He extends his arm, and I move closer to examine it. His whole arm is protected by scales. There is no trace of damage as far as I can see.

Does he perhaps have regeneration? Or maybe he used the Source to heal himself?

MC: Those branches looked pretty unpleasant. Didn't they pierce your entire body? How could they do no harm?

Decimus: They're nothing but pure Prime. My Father's control over Prime is second to none.

Decimus: He is the one who created me. If he wishes so, he could return me to Prime with a mere expression of his will. And if he wishes so, he could immobilize me, without harming me.

Decimus: He can do anything to demons, and more to his personal creations. All he needs is access to the Source, to become demon god.

Decimus: In retrospect, choosing him as my second and the temporary keeper of my Source was not a wise decision. But who knew Father would become so...excited? He is normally so placid.

Decimus: If I knew this would happen, I would've chosen Diavolo instead.

Oh? That's different. Previously, he wouldn't have even considered that.

Something must have changed between him and Diavolo. Did that happen in the memory that I've lost?

MC: ...And how is the King?

Decimus smirks.

Decimus: Other than a face bruise and a dislocated jaw —

MC: (You're kidding, right...?)

Decimus: — he is more energetic than ever.

MC: ...

MC: All right, I understand that the King didn't harm you by inserting the branches. But how did you remove them?

Decimus: You're still thinking about that?

MC: Give me a straight answer.

Decimus: ...Michael was the one to remove them.

I frown. A Celestial interference in the work of Prime? That's couldn't possibly go as smoothly as the King's own work.

MC: ...How are you feeling?

Decimus: I am already better. I will recover after a while.

He smiles suddenly.

Decimus: No need to look so worried. Connected to the Source, I am pretty much indestructible.

MC: Can't you use my nucleus to recover instantly?

Decimus raises his eyebrows. Then he points to the bedside table. There's my D.D.D. there, and...

The fractured golden crystal.

It's the nucleus, but all light has gone out of it. It's empty.

Decimus: The nucleus has run out of power after restoring your body. It can no longer be used. What do you want to do about the shell?

It's too bad about that, but I should count myself lucky it didn't run out of power a few moments sooner.

MC: Is the shell useful for anything? Can a demon eat it?

Maybe it still has some healing power that Decimus could consume. Although, I know he didn't want to eat it...

Decimus: It has almost no nutritional value for demons, but it still has some residual Essence left. It could be used to fertilize Celestial plants.

MC: Then, let's use it to fertilize your flowers.

I like his flowers. They have a gentle appearance and soothing smell.

With a low hum of assent, Decimus picks up the broken nucleus. I take this opportunity to study his face.

There's no trace from Lucifer's strike left on his skin. Granted, the cut wasn't very deep in the first place, but...

Now the only proof of my victory is gone.

Decimus: Disappointed?

MC: !

Decimus: If you want to leave me with a lasting scar, you need to try harder than that.

MC: No way, I don't want to mar your skin with scars! It's just...well...

Decimus: Yes, I know.

Decimus: Your victory was witnessed, and written in the history of heaven and hell. But you want tangible proof, of course.

Decimus: Then, how about this?

Decimus takes a chain off his neck. A talisman is attached to it. I've never seen it before; it was always hidden under his clothes.

He gives the talisman to me. I accept it.

It's heavy and cold. It seems to be made out of some dark metal. And it feels ancient.

The talisman depicts a symbol I don't recognize, with jagged, sharp edges. Written in a circle at the center is a single word:

 **Impersonator**.

MC: !

Decimus: This will grant you a safe passage throughout the entire Abyss. You're free to leave here any time.

Decimus: And it will grant you the right to decide my status, since you won the fight against the King.

Silently, I put the chain around my neck, and slip the talisman under my shirt.

For a moment, it sears my heart with cold.

After a few heartbeats, it adjusts to my body temperature. Even though it was so heavy in my hand, I can't feel its weight anymore. I just can feel its presence, if I focus on it. Sharp and dark.

I find myself smiling.

I feel like this talisman has made my identity more solid.

Impersonator. Is this who I am? Or perhaps at least a part of me? Decimus did say we were similar.

He wasn't wrong.

I know this belongs to him, and not to me. He is the doppelganger. But I am an expert at borrowing things from others. I borrow power and affection that does not belong to me, in order to achieve my ends. Why can't I borrow an identity? Especially since it's the one about having no identity of your own. It rings so true, it might as well be a genuine one.

It makes me feel like I can exist.

I clutch my hand around the talisman. It **prickles**. How nice. It definitely feels real.

MC: Haha.

Decimus leans back in his chair.

Decimus: Have you decided what to do about my status?

MC: I have.

MC: It might be a little unpleasant, but I want you to cooperate with me. It probably won't take longer than a few weeks.

Decimus: ...What are you planning?

MC: You want to finish the funeral rites properly. From the sound of it, it's going to take centuries. But your Father doesn't want to wait for centuries. He is tired of waiting. That's the problem, as I understand it.

Decimus nods slowly.

Decimus: And so...?

MC: And so, we're going to finish those funeral rites properly. But it won't take centuries. At most, it will only take **a few weeks**.

Decimus: ...

MC: What's with that skeptical look? Don't worry, it can be done. I'll help you.

Decimus: ...Have you ever done a funeral rite for a demon before?

MC: Nope, never. That's why I need to observe you at work. I need you to teach me.

Decimus: ...

MC: I won't interfere with your work. I also can't offer you any advice or resources. The only thing I can offer you is my presence.

MC: I am something like a catalyst. Things tend to happen around me. Just by getting involved, I speed things up. You can count on it.

MC: You've seen what I can do, haven't you?

Decimus: What if this time, your involvement doesn't speed things up?

MC: Then I'll help you finish your work anyway, even if it takes centuries. It can't hurt to have an extra pair of hands, and after a few decades, even I might become an expert.

Decimus is staring at me, his pupils constricted in shock. Evidently, he is struck speechless.

This is not the reaction I expected.

MC: What's the matter? You don't want my presence? I thought, from what you said before —

Decimus: It's not that. Of course I want you here. That's a given.

Decimus: I'm just...surprised.

Decimus: Are you being serious?

MC: Of course, I'm serious. Why is it hard to believe?

MC: I went as far as to claim the power to decide your fate. Of course I'm going to take responsibility. Is it something to be taken lightly?

Decimus: I thought if I asked you about my status, you would just tell me to do what I want, and end it at that. I thought you didn't really want the power to decide my fate.

MC: Come on, if I didn't want that power, would I fight the King over it?

Decimus: You actually want it...?

MC: Of course.

MC: And I told you. I will prove you wrong. That's why I started this whole trial.

Decimus: You really want to stay...?

MC: Yes. At least for a while. It'll just be an extended vacation.

Decimus: But why did you change your mind? You were so determined to leave.

MC: And I will leave. Eventually.

Instinctively, I grasp the talisman through my clothes. I feel the comforting prickle of its sharp edges.

MC: After I'm done with my obligations here.

Decimus is silent. Abruptly, he covers his face with his hands.

His shoulders are shaking.

MC: ??

Decimus is muttering something in a language I can't quite recognize. But he seems to be saying something about his Father.

I watch him in some concern. It's hard to tell, but he seems...relieved?

MC: You don't mind if I stay here for a while?

Decimus: Do you still need to ask...?

His voice is muffled.

Decimus: Of course you can stay. As long as you want to. Stay for a few weeks. Stay for eternity.

His mood seems a little strange. Is he laughing?

MC: Oh, but I have to meet with Simeon in the morning. I promised him. I have some things I need to give him back.

Decimus waves his hand. I take that as an agreement.

I pick up my D.D.D. from the bedside table and check the time. Still four hours until the appointed time.

MC: There might also be a little problem with Celestial Inquisitors. After all, the angel observer saw my wings. There's a possibility they might come here to interrogate me.

Abruptly, Decimus lowers his hands and looks at me. His eyes are burning with a feverish light, but otherwise he looks the same as usual.

Decimus: So you didn't realize...?

MC: Realize what?

Decimus: The identity of the angel observer that Michael brought along.

MC: It sounds like you know who the observer was.

Decimus: Of course I do.

Decimus: We're not supposed to break their anonymity, but you already know about Diavolo. That, and the trial was done in the spirit of the old tradition, with the seconds joining in.

Decimus: The observer was assisting Michael with extracting the branches. It's hard not to tell who the angel is when he's using his power and standing so close.

MC: Just tell me already. Who was it?

Decimus: Simeon.

MC: ?!

Seriously? I couldn't tell at all.

Decimus: Simeon won't reveal anything he has seen during the trial, even if the Inquisitors question him. That's part of his personal trial of non-interference, and a requirement for him to continue on the career of Temperance.

Decimus: As for Luke, as your guardian angel, he is exempt from questioning under the seal of the confessional. He will never reveal anything he's seen in you to anyone else. Even if he's seen a pair of golden wings.

MC: Speaking of those wings, I have a favor to ask of you.

Decimus: They are in a pretty bad shape, aren't they? Michael will not be pleased to get them back in such a mangled condition.

He already knows what I want to ask him for...

MC: ...Yes, I was a little too rough with them. And I feel bad about it. That's why, could you —

Decimus: I'll take those wings and repair them while you sleep. It's easy. They'll be better than new.

I raise my eyebrows.

MC: Just like that?

He's not going to ask for anything in return?

Decimus laughs softly.

Decimus: I'm in a good mood. Maybe I should also make improvements to the wings. I do owe Michael for helping you during the trial.

I don't know if his mood can be described as **good.** It seems more complex than that. But he definitely seems elated.

MC: Just don't get carried away and make them insectoid or something.

He laughs again.

Decimus: Don't give me ideas.

Decimus: Now, **sleep**.

My head suddenly gets very heavy. I am sinking into sleep.

Is this...mental magic? I bet I could resist that...if I wanted...

MC: (yawn)

Decimus: Rest.

The next moment, I am asleep.

...

...

...

I wake up abruptly from the feeling of danger.

Someone else is in a room with me.

I open my eyes.

MC: ...!!

It's Barbatos.

The one from my original world.


	58. A Call From Home

Barbatos presses a finger to his lips.

Barbatos: Please, keep your voice down.

Barbatos: If your host learns that I am here, he will annihilate me.

I sit up, putting my hands in my pockets.

MC: Why are you here?

Barbatos: Lord Diavolo has ordered your return. I'm here to take you back.

He reaches out his hand. I don't move.

MC: Is that so? But I am a human, not a demon.

Barbatos: What are you implying...?

MC: Lord Diavolo was kind enough to remind me that I am just an exchange student here. As a human, I have no right to interfere in the affairs of demons.

Barbatos: ...You sound like you're holding a grudge against him for saying that.

MC: Heheh. You're imagining this.

My eyes flash maliciously.

Barbatos: ...

MC: Regardless, what he said goes both ways. As a demon, Diavolo has no right to give me orders. We have an agreement, and all he can do is wait for my return.

Barbatos: He is well aware of this. Which is why he gave this order to **me**.

Barbatos' outstretched hand emits a dark glow.

Barbatos: And I will bring you back by **any means necessary**.

Multiple black threads shoot out of his hand towards me.

In my left pocket, I clench my hand around the crystal ball, crushing it.

The time compressor shatters, and time comes to a halt.

Whew, not a moment too soon. The threads in Barbatos' hand have already formed a spiderweb, and now it's frozen in midair, surrounding me like a black net.

I take a ring out of my right pocket, and use it to manifests a silver sickle.

I got this ring from Solomon. He said it's completely new and still untested, and if I get the opportunity, I should go ahead and put it through a field test.

Come to think of it, every time I meet Solomon, he gives me something.

I have only a minute left. Working quickly, I use my sickle to cut through Barbatos' threads.

Barbatos is frozen in time, but his eyes are following my movements. It's pretty unnerving how he's not entirely affected by the time suspension.

In a few seconds, I finish cutting through all the threads. I revoke the sickle and slip the heated ring back into my pocket.

Now, what should I do about the motionless Barbatos...?

I contemplate Barbatos for a moment.

He is fully aware, but can't move. This is my opportunity to do something to demoralize him and discourage him from coming here again.

I get off the bed and approach him, reaching out my hand.

His eyes widen in alarm.

Unperturbed, I pat him on the head.

Barbatos: ?!

MC: You shouldn't come into my bedroom in the middle of the night, uninvited. It's **improper**.

Barbatos' eyes flash indignantly. I know what he wants to say. It's not the middle of the night anymore; it's already past dawn now.

Well, it's night to me. It's dark outside, and I was sleeping peacefully in my bed. And I never invited him.

More importantly, I don't want to see him.

MC: Moreover, you would even go as far as to use **force** on a sleeping, defenseless human...

MC: **Despicable**. You're worse than an **incubus**.

I shake my head. Barbatos' eyes are blazing.

MC: Do it again, and I'll complain to Diavolo about you compromising my virtue. What are you going to do if he orders you to make an honest human out of me?

MC: Or maybe I'll skip Diavolo and complain directly to Lucifer instead.

Barbatos' eyes are burning a hole in me. Good, I have managed to agitate him.

I smile in satisfaction.

MC: You really shouldn't enter my bedroom without knocking, anyway. You might see things you didn't wish to see. Or experience things you didn't wish to experience.

I trace my finger along one of his horns. He has pretty intricate horns, but they seem a little delicate.

Makes me feel like they could break if I applied enough force.

My fingers twitch.

Barbatos: ...

MC: **I am not going back yet.**

MC: I am not done yet. There is no time limit on my task. **Patience**.

I remove my hand and take a step back.

MC: Tell Diavolo that.

Barbatos takes a breath.

Looks like my minute is up. I watch him closely, in case he decides to attack again.

But Barbatos seems disinclined to keep using force. He withdraws his hand and rubs his horn, shuddering.

Barbatos: You've been in contact with Solomon!

MC: I have no idea what you're talking about.

Barbatos: Then why are you **smirking**?

MC: Where do you see a smirk? This is my innocent, pure smile.

Barbatos: You were supposed to complete this task **by yourself**. That was Lord Diavolo's condition.

MC: No, I was supposed to **go alone**. I was forbidden to take anyone along with me from my original world.

MC: There were no conditions about not accepting help from the **locals**.

Barbatos: ...!

Barbatos: The locals couldn't possibly —

I wait, but Barbatos doesn't finish the sentence.

MC: The locals couldn't possibly want to help me?

MC: They wouldn't interfere even if I am killed?

Barbatos says nothing. His lips are compressed into a tight line.

MC: But they did interfere when I was imprisoned.

MC: Even I don't know why. I haven't really spent much time with them. In fact, we barely exchanged a few words. And yet, they did participate in the trial.

MC: What's more, I've gotten Luke on my side. The **local one**.

Barbatos: !!

Barbatos: Why would he...?

MC: I don't know. I haven't asked him.

MC: Maybe he felt sorry for me. Or maybe...

Maybe there's something he hopes to get from me. I just haven't figured out what it is. He didn't seem too enthusiastic about becoming an Archangel, although from what I can tell, he isn't opposed to the idea either.

Barbatos: Let's put aside the subject of the...locals. I believe we were discussing the grand sorcerer.

MC: Sure. Why are you walking free, anyway? I believe Solomon boxed you.

Barbatos gives me a murderous glare. I suppose getting out of that box was difficult, even for him.

Barbatos: What kind of relationship do you have with Solomon?

MC: That's private business between us humans. Demons have no right to interfere.

Barbatos: ...

I can hear him gnashing his teeth.

You know what, I think I'm starting to enjoy this. It's fun to infuriate Barbatos.

MC: Why don't you take a seat while we discuss this in more detail?

MC: Ah, but if Decimus comes, I'm not protecting you from him. As a weak, harmless human, I can't get involved when elite demons are fighting each other. You're on your own.

MC: But I will cheer from the sidelines.

I don't specify who I will be cheering for.

Barbatos: Thank you for your kind offer, but I'm afraid I can't afford to take advantage of your hospitality. I must get back as soon as possible.

Is it just me, or did Barbatos sound sarcastic here for a moment?

MC: That's too bad. Until we meet again, then.

Barbatos: You're placing me in a difficult position. Lord Diavolo ordered me to bring you back.

MC: I don't see what the problem is. He didn't specify which version of me he wants to be brought back, right?

Barbatos' expression twists for a moment.

MC: It doesn't have to be **me**. Just pick whichever version of "me" you find most suitable, and bring that back instead.

MC: You have thousands to choose from. It's nothing you haven't done before.

MC: And no one would know the difference.

Barbatos: ...

Barbatos: There is something that might be of interest to you.

Barbatos: Lord Diavolo is decorating RAD with mirage flowers.

...Huh?

Barbatos: Have you ever heard about mirage flower?

MC: Uh, no.

Why are we suddenly talking about flowers?

Barbatos: It's an extremely rare kind of flower that nearly went extinct a few hundred years ago. Even now, it is endangered.

MC: A rare kind of flower?

Barbatos: It is so rare that you won't find it anywhere except our world.

A unique kind of flower...

Barbatos: Lord Diavolo wants the students to admire those flowers. That's why he brought mirage flowers to RAD.

MC: Why are you telling me this?

Barbatos: I just thought you might want to take a look. I know you're fond of flowers.

MC: Why would I —

I fall silent. Outside of my room, I can hear approaching footsteps.

That's Decimus, I'm certain.

I wave frantically at Barbatos.

MC: (Go!)

With a wary glance at the door, Barbatos transforms into a smoke and fades away.

Barbatos has left.

Just in time.

The footsteps halt at my door. The visitor stands outside, motionless. He seems to be listening to the sounds from my room.

I wait, breathing evenly.

There is a dark pulse of Prime from the door. The visitor is renewing the defensive formations upon my room.

Yep, that's Decimus. I recognize his power, the familiar pattern of Prime.

Even through the door, I can feel his gaze upon me, confirming my presence.

He lingers for another moment, and then he turns and leaves.

I wait until his footsteps fade away. Then I flop down on the bed and stare at the intricately carved ceiling.

A rare kind of flower. A kind that's unique to my world...

Solomon gave me many things, but I haven't given him anything yet. I am yet to prepare a gift for the apprenticeship ceremony. It's difficult to find something suitable.

I know that Solomon is not originally from my world. He hasn't spoken of his world of origin. He doesn't want anyone to know. But he let a few things slip, from time to time.

For one, I know there are no plants left in his original world.

He is always interested in rare ingredients. Maybe he can use the mirage flower for potions brewing.

I suppose I could go back for half an hour. Steal a flower or two.

Not **in person** , of course.

I am due for a visit anyway.

I take out my D.D.D. and check the latest incoming message.

[Belphegor: Have you forgotten about me?]

I open the hidden image on my D.D.D.

_You are here._

It's time to go visit a prisoner.


	59. Home is Nowhere

Once in my room, I stuff my backpack with the things I prepared and put it on. With the last glance in the mirror — still me — I open the door.

I step outside.

Into nowhere.

I move through the corridors between realities, beyond time and space, where the lines between what's real and what's possible are blurred.

I know this place like the back of my hand. I know every turn, and every door in vicinity. Moving through here has become a second nature now.

I don't encounter any entities along the way. Nobody really wants to traverse these corridors if they can help it. Simply maintaining your existence here is difficult, and you need to know where to go too. You have to constantly will yourself into being, while using your purpose as the compass on the way.

If you linger here for too long, your existence will be eroded by the winds of oblivion, until not much of you remains, until you're reduced to nothing but the promises you've made.

But I think this place is not too bad.

It has almost started to feel like home.

Before long, I arrive at a shimmering door, and I open it. Inside, the fabric of reality is warping and swirling.

I step through it —

— and emerge inside a prison.

Inside the cell in front of me, Belphegor is standing, looking at me through the bars.

Belphegor: You're finally here. I got sick of waiting.

I glance over my shoulder, at a large mirror I just came in through.

Inside that mirror, the same cell is reflected, with one difference — behind the bars, Belphegor is asleep.

MC: This is so strange.

Belphegor: It's high time you got used to it.

Belphegor: Did you bring everything?

I take off my backpack and start removing things from it.

MC: Here's your manga —

I push a thick stack through the bars, into his waiting hands.

MC: — not that you're actually going to read it.

I bet he's just going to use it as a pillow again.

Belphegor flips through the stack.

Belphegor: You even brought this volume? I thought it wasn't released yet.

If you know it's not released, then why did you ask me to bring it?

MC: The release date is not that far into the future. I just found a nearby reality where the volume got released a little sooner.

Next, I push the stuffed bunny through the bars, and he takes it.

MC: I'm not even going to ask what you need it for.

Belphegor cradles the stuffed bunny.

Belphegor: It's to keep me company during these long, cold nights. It gets lonely here, in my solitary confinement.

Yeah, right. As if you don't get a constant stream of visitors all the time. I don't know anyone who's more loved than you.

Just don't dissect the poor bunny.

Belphegor's mood seems to have improved with the appearance of the stuffed bunny.

Belphegor: So cute. Doesn't it look a little bit like Barbatos?

Like I said. Don't dissect it.

MC: No, I see no resemblance.

Belphegor: You're right. It looks more like Lucifer from this angle.

I'm sorry, bunny. I feel bad about giving you to him. But better you than me. And as long as you don't look like Diavolo or me, you might yet have a chance to survive the cuddling experience.

Next, I push the bottle of Nightshade Milk through the bars.

Belphegor takes it without a word, opens the bottle, and starts chugging it.

And I suddenly remember something. He never asked me for Nightshade Milk. It was the other version of Belphegor who asked me. I got confused while sorting through his texts.

Just then, I remember something else. Didn't Beel say once that Belphie is allergic to Nightshade?

I feel cold sweat trickle down my spine.

It would not be an exaggeration to say that in this moment, my whole life flashes before my eyes. Not my past life, my future one. I see myself being put on trial for poisoning Lucifer's little brother. It's not like I don't have a motive.

MC: Belphie, that's Nightshade Milk. Stop drinking it!

He doesn't stop. He just glances at me over the bottle.

Is he doing this on purpose? That's one way of ending the exchange program, for sure!

MC: **Stop drinking it, Belphegor**.

He stops. He has no choice. I used the power of the pact to give him this order.

Belphegor: What's with you? Can't a prisoner drink his milk in peace here?

MC: Have you forgotten that you're allergic?

Belphegor: You shouldn't listen to everything Beel says. I'm not allergic, I just hate this stuff.

MC: ...

I believe him. Not because he's particularly trustworthy, or because I'm particularly trusting, or because we have such a good, close relationship built on trust and mutual appreciation. It's just, during one of my previous visits, I ordered him to **never lie to me**.

Belphegor: May I keep drinking now?

MC: ...

If you hate it enough to make up a story about an allergy to your own twin brother, then why do you want to keep drinking? Has he suddenly developed a masochistic streak while I wasn't looking?

MC: There is freshly brewed coffee in this thermos. How about you drink it instead?

He accepts the coffee, but doesn't let go of his milk bottle.

Belphegor: I want to finish this milk first.

MC: ...Knock yourself out.

He resumes drinking. I am watching him closely. Maybe he's allergic and just doesn't know it. If something happens to him, I might have to abandon my task and call for help.

Before long, Belphegor empties the entire bottle.

Belphegor: Yuch. **Disgusting**. Absolutely **revolting**.

I mean, who forced you to drink this?

Belphegor: Do you have more?

MC: ...

MC: No.

Belphegor: Thank all the dead deities for that!

I have no words.

MC: How are you feeling?

Are there any ill effects from the milk?

Belphegor: Ugh. This SUCKS. Why are you always asking me this question?

When did I ever ask that question before? Here, I mean.

Belphegor: I am lonely and bored.

MC: Do you want to take something for indigestion?

Just in case, you know. He just drank the whole bottle which he hates.

Belphegor: Ugh, you sound just like Beel. Why don't you take a seat?

I would, but there's only the floor to sit on, and it's cold.

At this moment, someone enters through the staircase. I tense up, my hand moving towards my pocket.

Belphegor: It's okay, he's one of mine.

A demon approaches the cell, carrying a chair. His eyes are closed. Is he sleepwalking?

MC: Does Diavolo know that you made yourself comfortable in his castle?

Belphegor: Don't be silly, of course he doesn't.

I wait, but he doesn't say anything else about Diavolo.

That's... really strange. Usually just the mention of the name is enough to set him off.

The sleepwalking demon places the chair for me, and leaves. I take a seat.

MC: Has Lucifer been here?

Belphegor: He has.

MC: ...

That's it?

He doesn't want to talk about Diavolo, nor about Lucifer either? Then why did he ask me to take a seat?

What does he want to say to me?

MC: Did Barbatos come by?

Belphegor: Yes, briefly.

Belphegor smiles strangely, cuddling the stuffed bunny, but does not elaborate.

So it's not about those three?

I guess I'll just hear him out.

MC: What's up?

Belphegor: I've seen you pass through the dreamscape, into the outer regions. Have you been visiting the frontier again?

The frontier. It takes me a second to recognize the term. He's talking about alternative realities.

MC: Yeah, I have.

No reason to hide it. He will know anyway. The dreamscape is his domain.

Belphegor: Are you taking pictures of Mammon again?

MC: What is it to you?

Belphegor: You should be more careful.

Belphegor: If you keep seeking Mammon out, sooner or later you will run into his darker Aspects. You might encounter his Shadows. Or worse, his Reflection.

I've never heard anything about Aspects. But as soon as he mentions Reflection, I can instantly tell what he's talking about.

I take out my D.D.D. and show Belphie the picture.

MC: Is that him?

The picture shows a demon who looks exactly like Mammon, yet not like him. He is familiar yet strange. His eyes are dead and cold, and a provocative sneer is playing on his lips. He's carrying a gun, and although his clothes are stylish as usual, he looks like a complete gangster.

MC: Is this Mammon's Reflection?

Belphegor stares at the picture.

Belphegor: You've met him already?

Belphegor: What's more, you even took his **picture**?

Belphegor: How come you're still alive?

MC: When are you going to stop being surprised by my continuous survival? It's high time you got used to that.

Belphegor: He didn't try to kill you?

MC: He did. The moment we met, he shot me. He thought I was an agent for the witches. He does some dark magic artifact smuggling on the side, see, and the Coven is always on his case —

Belphegor: He SHOT you?

MC: Multiple times. Nine shots, nine misfires. I counted.

Belphegor: ...

MC: He changed the gun twice in the process. The last gun exploded in his hand. That's when he gave up.

Belphegor: He tried to kill you, and you would still hang out with him, and take his pictures?

Belphegor: Then why — !

MC: ?

Belphegor: Never mind! I can't believe you would just forgive him like that!

MC: You aren't surprised by the misfires?

Belphegor: ...

MC: Yeah, me neither.

MC: I'm extraordinarily lucky at gambling, you see. At roulette, especially. It's Mammon's gift to me.

MC: I just had no idea that this luck would extend to firearms.

Belphegor: ...

MC: Mammon can't harm me, even if he tried to. Because he is the one protecting me from himself.

MC: Even if his Reflection doesn't know that.

Belphegor: ...

MC: Still, I was pretty pissed when he tried to kill me. So I pretended to die, then I turned into a ghost before his eyes, and then I started to haunt him.

Belphegor: ...You actually turned into a ghost?

MC: Easy enough with my experience. I can last for several hours while separated from my physical form, as long as my body itself is safe.

MC: Check out this picture.

I show him a picture of Mammon the gangster, who is staring hard at the cards in his hand. His eyes are bloodshot.

Belphegor: Is this taken in a casino?

MC: Yep. I'm haunting him while he's playing.

MC: I would float up to him as an invisible ghost and make comments to him while he's trying to concentrate on his game. He can't reply to me, because he's the only one who can hear me, and everyone would think him a loon.

MC: Or I would float up to his opponents, check out their cards, and then tell him what cards they have. First time that happened, he was so surprised that he yelled their cards out loud, and everyone thought he was cheating. **Fun**.

I find another picture. It's Mammon driving a sports car, glaring sideways at me.

Belphegor: He's even giving you a **ride**?

MC: Not exactly. I'm hitching a ride with him. It's not like he can kick out a ghost. We're trying to shake off our pursuers from the previous picture.

MC: Oh yeah, and later I showed up in the strip club where he has a little side job, and I haunted the whole site until all visitors ran away.

MC: The club owner begged Mammon not to come back anymore.

That put an end to his little moonlighting.

I have a picture from that time too, but I don't feel like showing it.

Belphegor: ...Mammon's Reflection couldn't have been pleased about all the haunting.

MC: No. He tried all methods to get rid of me. He even called for an exorcist.

Belphegor: A demon, calling an exorcist to get rid of a human...

MC: I must have my revenge until I'm satisfied. So I'm coming back there to meet him again. If I can't pass through the dreamscape, I'll find another way.

MC: Don't try to stop me.

Belphegor: Don't pretend this is for revenge. You just want an excuse to stalk him.

MC: ...

Belphegor: ...

Belphegor: At least try to deny it!

What's the point of denying the truth?

MC: Now, if that is all...

I get to my feet.

Belphegor: Where are you going?

MC: RAD garden. I have flowers to steal.

Belphegor: You — I will never understand how you think.

MC: What's so hard to understand? I just want some beautiful things to look at, to brighten up my life.

Belphegor: When are you going to get me out of here?

MC: I'm working on it. **Patience**.

Once I am strong enough as a sorcerer, I'll track down whoever is messing with the attic door. And I will finally be able to control Belphie completely, even while asleep. Once I am strong enough...

I open my hand and stare at it. Solomon expected me to be able to handle all four possessions, but I could only handle three. My hand is throbbing as I clench it into a fist.

This task of mine...I am nowhere near done. How long will it take?

With my personal power this low, will I ever be able to make it?

I don't even know what I'm doing. It's like moving through the shifting maze, blindfolded.

Am I even making any progress at all, or I am just stuck in place?

In frustration, I kick the bars on Belphie's cell.

Belphegor: !

Belphegor takes a small step away from the bars.

Belphegor: Take it easy. I can wait. As long as you keep visiting me, I am still fine.

What's the matter? Did I startle him? He looks alarmed.

I try to get my emotions under control.

Belphegor: You said something about the flowers.

Right. The flowers. A gift for Solomon...

As soon as my focus shifts, the wave of frustration recedes.

Hold on, what's with that **dent** on the bars? I don't think I was ever this strong. After-effects of possession?

These visits always agitate me, but this time is worse than usual.

I think I better leave. Right now.

MC: Be back in a few minutes.

I turn around to leave. When I reach the shimmering mirror, I pause.

MC: Has anything changed here recently?

Belphegor: Not that I noticed. But it's only been a few hours here since you started your task. Time doesn't flow here the same as it does for you.

MC: Diavolo said he wants to bring me back. He already sent Barbatos once to retrieve me.

Belphegor: **What**?

MC: Watch out.

Belphegor: Wait —!

I step forward, into the mirror —

— and emerge inside a restroom at RAD.

No one is here.

I'm still holding my D.D.D. Automatically, I open the picture I didn't show Belphie and look at it.

It's a demon who looks exactly like Mammon, yet not like him. He is in a half-undressed state, and his dead eyes are lit up with laughter. Performing a striptease in front of an empty house, since all the audience was driven away by a violent poltergeist. No one is watching...

Well, unless you count the ghost, that is.

Even if Belphie interferes and I can't go back to that exact same world, I am not done yet taking pictures of Mammon. I want to see all of his aspects. Including the darker ones.

I pull my hood up and exit the restroom.

There's no shortage of hooded staff at RAD. One more doesn't make a difference. I don't draw any attention on the way.

When I'm almost at RAD garden, I spot Luke.

Instinctively, I hide myself in shadows.

Luke is on his own? I don't see Simeon.

I watch Luke for several moments. He appears absent-minded, absorbed in his thoughts. As he walks, demons are giving him a wide berth, although they keep staring at him. It's funny, I never noticed that before.

He looks exactly the same as Luke I know, yet strange. As expected, he is a different person. Perhaps, once I leave the false looped world, my existence will fade from his memories.

As for **this** Luke, he never truly knew me at all. Not to mention, I have changed too much during my absence.

Only pacts persist between realities. An agreement with an angel will not remain. There will be nothing left; no connection.

Suddenly, Luke turns his head and looks directly at me.

MC: !

I flatten myself against the wall.

Did he see me? Or simply sensed my gaze? This is no good...

Luke has stopped. For several long moments, he is staring right at the spot I'm at.

MC: (Nothing to see here, move on!)

Finally, he turns away and resumes walking.

MC: (Whew. That was close.)

I start moving again.

MC: (I should avoid the Council members as well. Just in case.)

I should...avoid to be seen by anyone.

This thought gives me pause.

How strange.

It used to be the other way around. I was supposed to avoid the locals during my task. And now, the situation is reversed. I am avoiding the denizens of my own home.

Perhaps I truly don't belong here anymore. Perhaps, my home is nowhere.

Just then, I arrive at the garden.

MC: !


	60. The Phantom Thief of Flowers

So this is the mirage flower.

I have to say, it's impressive. The color is really difficult to describe, but the overall impression is of something mesmerizing. Especially with so many flowers all over the garden.

It's a pity such a beautiful flower is endangered. Maybe, if I bring it to Decimus, he would be able to cultivate it. He seems to have a lot of experience with flowers. If he can get the mirage flower to grow in his garden, I would be able to admire it every day.

Or perhaps, he can modify the seeds until this flower can thrive anywhere in the Devildom. Then everyone would be able to admire it.

All right, it's decided. I'm getting the mirage flowers for Solomon and Decimus both.

I pick up a small pot with several mirage flowers growing in it. And then I pull down my hood and wait, holding the pot with flowers in my arms.

Someone will come to this garden sooner or later. I need to be seen with this flower. I need to be caught red-handed, with my face visible.

Otherwise, there is a 99.99% chance that Mammon is going to be blamed for stealing it.

It's not like I'm entirely unexpected here. Barbatos practically invited me. Any random demon would do as a witness. I don't care who it is.

I don't have to wait for long.

Soon enough, a demon shows up in the garden.

MC: ?!

I know I said any demon would do, but why does it have to be THAT demon?

Diavolo is staring at me. He raises his hand.

MC: (Not so fast!)

I turn invisible.

My metaphysical body loses shape and blurs, morphing into shadows. I become a ghost, an intangible phantom, and only the mirage flower is still glittering brightly in my arms.

Before Diavolo can make his move, before he can say anything, I flee the scene.

In this mode of existence, I am very fast. In a few seconds, I'm already opening the door to the restroom, when my D.D.D. rings.

It's Belphie. I pick up.

[Belphegor: Ambush! Don't come back!]

Shoot! I skitter over the tiled floor, backing away from the restroom.

[Belphegor: Fourth floor, second turn on the left, there's a mirror in there.]

I dash up the staircase, but even as I approach the fourth floor, I can tell something is wrong.

I peek through the door.

Satan is going through the entire floor, methodically shattering all mirrors one by one.

I hide behind the door, hissing into my D.D.D.

[MC: Belphie, they know about the mirrors!]

[Belphegor: No...!]

[MC: How do they know? Have you told anyone that mirrors can be used to travel?]

[Belphegor: Beel...]

[MC: You told Beel?]

Satan finishes destroying the last mirror and turns around.

Right towards me.

I back away from the door.

[MC: Give me a route.]

[Belphegor: Try the sixth floor. There's a mirror in the hall.]

[Belphegor: It's antique, they wouldn't shatter it.]

I dash towards the staircase. Just in time.

Satan kicks the door open.

Satan: **Where are you?**

MC: !

I cover several flights of stairs at once.

I think I managed to shake Satan off, but...

[MC: That's Beel in the hall!]

[Belphegor: ...]

[MC: I don't want to have to deal with Beel.]

[Belphegor: Me neither.]

[MC: Any ideas?]

[Belphegor: There's a hidden mirror in the alcove on the seventh floor.]

[MC: Who else knows of it?]

[Belphegor: Only Lucifer.]

[MC: ...]

[Belphegor: ...]

Should I go back instead, try my luck with Satan?

**RUMBLE, RUMBLE.**

I hesitated for too long. Numerous demons storm the building. They're blocking the staircases.

I can't get trapped on this floor.

I sprint up the only staircase remaining — the one leading to the roof.

It's a long way up, and there are no mirrors in there. But I have no other route left.

[MC: Why are they all so keen on capturing me?]

[MC: I get that Diavolo ordered them to do it, but can't they slack off a little bit?]

[MC: So much fuss over a little flower. So stingy!]

[Belphegor: It's not about the flower. The mirage flower is just a lure for you.]

[Belphegor: Diavolo is trying to recall you.]

[MC: He can't do that. We have an agreement.]

[Belphegor: Obviously, he's decided to break it.]

[MC: Why would he do that all of a sudden?]

[Belphegor: ...]

[Belphegor: Are you telling me you seriously don't know why?]

[Belphegor: Can't you see that this has all **gone too far**?]

[Belphegor: Even I can see that!]

[MC: It doesn't matter how far it's gone. The only way now is forward.]

[MC: Deploying me on this task was like firing a rocket launcher. Once it's launched, you can't call it back.]

[Belphegor: Did you just compare yourself to an out-of-control, unguided missile?]

[Belphegor: What a weird metaphor.]

[MC: But it's easy to understand, isn't it?]

I emerge on the rooftop. There is stomping down below, smashing and slamming.

Right behind me, the roof door slams shut, and the lock clicks, trapping me on the roof.

Great. I'm a ghost, of course, but as long as I carry this flower, I can't float through walls.

[Belphegor: Why don't you drop this flower and escape?]

[MC: **Absolutely not**. This flower's mine.]

[Belphegor: Your greed is getting out of control.]

[MC: I don't need a lecture from you.]

[Belphegor: You allowed yourself to be lured in too easily. Couldn't you see the flower was an **obvious trap**?]

[Belphegor: Your stupidity is exceptional even for a human. You have only your own foolishness to blame for this.]

[Belphegor: You should've warned me sooner that Diavolo was calling you back!]

[MC: Of course I knew it was a trap.]

[MC: I want that flower anyway.]

[MC: It would've been perfectly fine if you didn't blab about mirrors to Beel. I bet you anything that Diavolo interrogated him.]

Diavolo can tell whether someone is lying to him. He can extract correct information out of truthful statements, and out of false ones. The only way to conceal information from him is to remain completely silent, but...even refusing to answer a question is an answer in itself.

[MC: You're the one who leaked information to Beel, so don't try to shift the blame onto me.]

[Belphegor: ...This is getting us nowhere.]

[MC: I agree. Do you have any useful ideas or not?]

If not, I'll wait next to the rooftop door, then try my luck with whoever enters first.

[Belphegor: ...]

[Belphegor: Do you have a piece of chalk?]

Is that a serious question?

[MC: Of course I do.]

[Belphegor: Draw a door on a wall somewhere.]

[Belphegor: Hurry up. They will finish checking all the floors soon.]

I take out a piece of chalk and draw a crooked door on a wall, with a round door handle.

[MC: All right, done.]

[MC: What's next?]

[Belphegor: Next is...]

Belphie seems to be hesitating. It's unusual for him.

[Belphegor: Next is **my turn**.]

A scorching heat sears my hand. I recognize the sensation.

**Possession.**

In theory, I still have one more left. I do, but...

[MC: Get OUT!]

[Belphegor: Do you want to escape or not?]

MC: Ugh!

My vision swims and blurs. Belphegor is trying to take over my body.

Belphegor: Don't tell me you've given up on your task already?

MC: Of course not...!

Belphegor: You have a choice. Drop that flower.

Everything is wobbling around me. I am clutching the flower pot in a death grip.

Belphegor: Then this is the only way.

Belphegor: Stop resisting me, it's hard enough as it is.

I don't know if it's because I ran out of power, or because of my current ghost state, or because of our incredibly low affinity, but this is the worst possession I've experienced so far.

There is a horrible feeling of my senses being torn out of my body. My hand is on fire.

No, I'm not imagining this. My hand is actually burning with purple flame.

Without my direction, my hand reaches out and grasps the drawn door handle.

Belphegor opens the chalk door.

I stumble forward, into the shimmering warp, just when someone kicks open the rooftop door.


	61. Dance With the Devil

The moment I come through, I kick Belphie out of my body. He vanishes with a squawk. I regain possession of my limbs.

Ugh, everything hurts.

Where am I?

I'm in the familiar space between realities, so at least he didn't throw me to the dreamscape.

I know this corridor. It's a dead-end, but there is a door nearby. It leads to the reality where I need to go, but the time is not exactly right.

It actually links directly to Diavolo's birthday party.

Oh well, this will do. Once I'm in the castle, I'll be able to reach my room. And from my room, going anywhere is a piece of cake.

I pull the door open and enter the Demon Lord’s Castle.

I look around. Nobody noticed me yet, but it's only a matter of time. This shady hood I'm wearing is really out of place here...

I need a different outfit.

Moving stealthily, I slink into Asmo's room. He's not in. I rummage in his wardrobe. He's got so many outfits to choose from, he won't miss one.

This mission is negatively impacting my morals. I've even started to think like a thief.

I'm just going to borrow this gaudy red one. I like how all the extra flowing fabric is covering up my utility vest.

All right, I'm ready.

So here's the plan. I'm going to cross the main hall, and go to Barbatos' room. There is a door in there that opens to the corridor from which I can reach my room.

Yes, I know. It's a little ballsy. But I can't be delayed for another year. There are people waiting for me, on the other end. In the Valley of Ruin.

And I promised Simeon to meet him in the morning. I take my promises very seriously, because sometimes, they're the only thing that remains of me.

I have less than an hour left.

I cross the main hall, where guests are dancing. I'm keeping to the outer edges, trying not to draw attention to myself.

There is no need to worry. Right now, everyone should be at the river bank. And that includes, yes...another version of me.

Ahem. I said it's a version of me, but actually...it's my shadow clone.

Let me explain. When I learned that I was expected to entertain Belphie for a year, I begged Solomon to let me borrow one of those shadow clones of his. He eventually gave in and created a tailor-made shadow clone in my image.

The shadow puppet doesn't really have a consciousness of its own, but it can follow simple routines, and it can even respond in simple ways, although you can't expect it to carry out an engaging conversation.

Fortunately, Belphie doesn't require me to talk. All I need to do is sit there, symbolizing Lilith, and serve as his pillow. Even a zombie could carry out this task with ease.

He's asleep most of the time, anyway. He's absent, and so am I.

The fact that he never discovered the replacement during the entire year says something about the depth of our relationship, I guess. Although I'm also worried that it says something about my personality, but I'd rather not dwell on that.

All right, I'm almost across the dance floor. Just a little more...

Voice: Here you are.

MC: !

With a chilly feeling, I turn around.

Not **everyone** is at the river bank.

I've completely forgotten about Diavolo.

Diavolo: Oh, what a beautiful flower!

Diavolo is staring at the pot of mirage flowers in my arms with admiration.

Diavolo: Is this **my birthday gift**?

No way, this is a gift for Decimus and Solomon!

I open my mouth to say it.

Diavolo's eyes are shining. He's smiling happily.

Such a happy smile. He looks so excited. I don't recall him ever looking that excited about any of his other gifts...

I speak then, but I don't say the words I was going to.

MC: Do you like it?

Diavolo beams.

Diavolo: Of course!

Diavolo: It looks exactly like the legendary mirage flower which went extinct centuries ago. It's mesmerizing.

Diavolo plucks the pot of mirage flowers from my unresisting hands. A servant materializes by his side, and Diavolo passes the flower to him.

Diavolo: Lock it in the treasury for now. I'll take care of it myself later.

The servant disappears.

The flower is gone.

MC: ...

What...has just happened?

Did I actually gift my flower to him? I really gave it away? Even Belphie couldn't pry it out of my hands, so how did Diavolo accomplish that?

I mean, yes, it's not **my** flower, it's the flower I stole from Diavolo. It's his own flower, but still —

UGH, now I'm starting to feel guilty about the whole thing!

Why now? And why towards **this** version of him?

Luke's face flashes in my mind.

(Luke: Instead of stealing someone else's flowers, grow your own.)

MC: (Begone, conscience!)

Diavolo: Will you dance with me?

Completely demoralized and entangled in my inner struggle, I miss the opportunity to refuse.

He takes my hand.

Before I know it, I'm dancing with Diavolo.

What's going on? Nothing like this has ever happened before.

MC: ...

No matter how often I see him in his true form, I can never get used to it. He is stunning. The effect is even more amplified up close.

But why does he want to dance? Does he want to have a private conversation?

Diavolo: You're surprisingly good at this.

Belatedly, I realize that the orchestra is playing **Spinning Lies** , an obscure traditional dance that is only performed on special occasions. A random human is very unlikely to be familiar with it.

I've only ever seen this dance once before, and it wasn't during this birthday party. However, due to certain circumstances, I ended up going through that one occasion about a hundred times, if not more. It would be strange if I didn't master the dance by that time.

I can't help but think that he chose it on purpose. And I just started moving automatically, without thinking about it. I guess it's too late to trip over my feet.

Ugh, we didn't start talking yet, and I'm already completely caught up in his pace.

Better not say anything. I give Diavolo a vapid smile. Hopefully he'll get bored soon...

Diavolo: Nice outfit.

UGH, of COURSE he would notice. My shadow clone just left the main hall a few minutes ago, wearing completely different clothes.

MC: Yeah, it's pretty nice. Asmo chose it.

He did, just not for me — for himself.

Please, question Asmo about this outfit. Because I'm out of excuses at this point.

Diavolo: As usual, he has excellent taste.

Diavolo: Although I'm curious about what you would choose to wear, if left to your own devices.

This line of questioning is unnerving me. Does he know I stole that outfit? Is it just my own guilty conscience speaking? Does he know that my outfit of choice is a hooded cloak (I need to conceal my face) over a utility vest (I can never have too many pockets), plus waterproof trousers (30% of the frontier is swamp), and don't even get me started on my boots (military edition)?

No way, he probably just detected my evasion.

Then, should I answer his question completely honestly, this time?

He'll regret asking.

MC: My RAD uniform.

MC: I would commission someone from Majolish to modify it and make it more festive.

MC: With any luck, the end result would end up stylish enough that it would become a trend, and then it would become an official version for formal occasions, and then I would never have to worry about what to wear to the ball **ever again**.

Dressing up for the ball is exciting at first. But after you attend about a thousand balls in a short period of time, the dressing up part loses its appeal.

Diavolo: What a brilliant idea!

Diavolo is spinning us around in a circle. The music has changed. The orchestra is playing **End of the Sun** , a bleak ceremonial dance not really suitable for birthday celebrations.

He's definitely doing that on purpose. I doubt he gave the musicians instructions in advance, so they're probably just following his movements.

Diavolo: We definitely need a formal version of the uniform.

Diavolo: You have a large-scale way of thinking.

MC: If there's something you want to say to me, just say it.

Diavolo: Very well. I know it's inconsiderate to regift, but...

Diavolo: Would you mind if I gave the mirage flower to Decimus?

MC: !!

Diavolo: He would be able to cultivate it. With his expertise, we might eventually see the mirage flowers growing everywhere in the Devildom.

Just what I was thinking. But...

At this point of time, how does he know Decimus' name?

He speaks as though the time gap is not even here. It looks like I'm not the only one who walks through the doors in Barbatos' room.

MC: It's your flower. You can do whatever you want with it.

Diavolo: Yes, it is **mine** , isn't it?

MC: ...

He shouldn't know where I got it...right? Unless...

Diavolo: Still, I need your cooperation.

Diavolo: I'd love to give it to Decimus personally.

Diavolo: If I'm allowed to have an opportunity to **meet** him, that is.

MC: ...

I think Diavolo knows that the flower wasn't meant for him. But he's willing to give it away in exchange for a meeting with Decimus.

What bothers me is the proprietary way he's talking about the flower.

Let's just probe him carefully.

MC: You want me to arrange a meeting?

MC: That's the matter between you two.

MC: Whatever issues you have, it concerns demons only. As a human, I have no right to interfere.

Diavolo winces. He shouldn't be able to recognize these words. Right?

Diavolo: You're very cruel.

...How am I supposed to interpret that?

Well, no matter. I have at least confirmed he is the same person who observed my trial versus Decimus. This is my chance to check on him.

I know Decimus said that Diavolo is completely fine. I just want to verify it myself.

MC: By the way, are you all right?

Diavolo: !

MC: You weren't injured, were you?

Diavolo: ...What did Decimus say?

What kind of answer is that? He's being evasive.

Well, if he doesn't want to say, there is another way. How about a little **physical test**?

Since Diavolo can change the dance at will, I should be able to do so as well.

I switch the steps, taking the lead. Surprise flashes in his eyes, but he goes along with me. There is a momentarily lag as the orchestra changes the music.

It worked. As per my choice, we're now dancing **The Full Circle** , a smooth but intricate dance typically performed during the equinox auctions (40% discount on rare herbs). It has some of the most complicated steps I've ever seen, but the choreography doesn't give Diavolo any trouble.

Having confirmed that, I change the dance again. The orchestra is faster to respond this time. It's **The Imp Jumped Over the Abyss**. They often play it in bars after the patrons get sufficiently drunk. The pace is quite lively, to put it mildly.

MC: Do you want to take a break?

Diavolo chuckles.

Diavolo: Now, why would I want to do that?

All right, then. Don't blame me.

During the several minutes that follow, I go through the most troublesome dances I've learned during my time spent between realities, while working on my task. In a quick succession, we go through folk ones, ritual ones, and even a few military ones. I alternate between the most mentally taxing and most physically strenuous ones.

Diavolo: You're really putting me through my paces.

MC: Getting tired yet?

Diavolo: Do I look tired?

He doesn't. Neither his endurance nor coordination seem affected. I'm starting to believe there is really nothing wrong with him.

Finally, I hit upon a dance Diavolo doesn't know.

He nearly stumbles. It's barely noticeable, because I lead. I slow down.

Diavolo shakes his head ruefully.

Diavolo: The steps are all familiar, and even the music is the same. But the flow is strange.

I'm not surprised. This dance belongs to one of the alternative realities.

I wouldn't need to keep doing that, if only he answered my question.

MC: How are you feeling?

Diavolo: I feel out of practice.

MC: ...

That's not what I'm asking, and you know it!

MC: Are you doing this on purpose? Is this revenge for my refusal to arrange a meeting with Decimus? Is that why you refuse to answer my question?

He laughs.

Diavolo: Not at all.

Diavolo: Actually, I wanted to ask you that same question.

Diavolo: Are you all right?

MC: ...

Is that why he was going along with my dance test? He wants to know what condition I'm in?

MC: Hasn't Decimus told you anything?

Diavolo: Alas, we're not on speaking terms.

That's true...

Diavolo: Last time I saw you, you were in a pretty precarious state.

Might as well give him some information. Maybe he'll be more willing to share information in return.

MC: That's nothing an archangel's heart can't fix.

Diavolo: !

MC: How did you survive the King's attack?

Diavolo: So you really don't remember?

MC: !

Diavolo: Of course Decimus would remove your memory.

Diavolo: Although normally, witnesses are eliminated.

That doesn't sound good. But even so, I want to know what happened.

Suddenly, Diavolo glances around.

MC: What's wrong?

Diavolo: Nobody is dancing.

I completely forgot that we're not alone on the dance floor. There are many other people. I wonder how they feel about the constantly changing music? Is it hard to keep up?

I glance around too.

He's correct. The guests have stopped dancing. They have freed the floor and gathered around at the edges of the ballroom. And they're staring at us.

MC: Oh, they're watching you.

MC: It's because you never dance.

I have attended countless balls, but I've never seen Diavolo dance, not even once. At least, not during the last century.

Which, now that I think of it, is more than a little strange.

If I wasn't on the floor with him right now, I would be staring too.

Somewhere during our conversation, the music changed again, although I'm not sure which one of us did that, and we're back to **The Full Circle**.

MC: Anyway, about that trial...

Should tell Diavolo that Decimus' opinion of him changed?

Diavolo: Actually, that time, I —

Voice: Pardon me.

Diavolo and MC: !

Someone has interrupted.

It's Solomon. He is smiling pleasantly. He really has nice features, but somehow, the sight of that pleasant smile is sending chills down my spine.

Solomon: Might I cut in?


	62. Reflection

Diavolo's grip on my hand tightens.

Diavolo: Yes, I do mind. We haven't finished our conversation.

Solomon's smile doesn't waver. He reaches out his hand.

Solomon: The next dance was promised to me.

I take Solomon's hand, but Diavolo does not release me.

Diavolo: Is that **really true**?

The guests are staring at us. Solomon's smile hardens.

Solomon: You want the truth?

I have a bad feeling about this...

Solomon: The truth is, I don't need your permission to take this human away. I was asking out of politeness.

Solomon: This is something that concerns us humans only. You're only a demon, nothing more. You pose no challenge to me. And you have no right to question me.

MC: !!

Solomon: You have no authority to detain humans.

He's talking about his time in the pentagram, isn't he. As expected, he's not happy about that.

Diavolo: ...I understand. And I admit that my attempt to detain you inside a pentagram was out of line, but I was only acting in the best interest of my exchange students.

Solomon: Too bad that all your efforts have been for nothing.

Diavolo: ...

Solomon: The weight of this responsibility might be too much for you to bear. I will take **my student** off your hands.

Solomon pulls my hand. After a moment's hesitation, Diavolo releases me. But just before letting go of my hand, he slips something into it.

Solomon invokes a dimensional rift.

He does that in the middle of the hall, in full view of all the present guests. Flaunting his power like that...

Ugh, I WANT this ability! If I could do this, I would never have to rely on doors or mirrors again! But...it's way outside of my power and skill range. Still, even if I can't invoke it, it's exciting just to see it.

A tear opens in the fabric of spacetime, and Solomon drags me through.

We emerge inside his room. Once we're there, Solomon releases my hand.

Solomon: What did he give you?

I open my hand, revealing a ring with a set emerald. It radiates some sort of magic, but I can't tell what it is.

Solomon examines it for a heartbeat.

Solomon: A two-way portal to the Demon Lord's Castle. No traps or any other enchantments. You can keep it if you want.

Nice. I slip the portal ring into one of my (many) pockets. Solomon is watching me expressionlessly.

Solomon: You should be careful about the connections you make here. Your bonds will end up determining your existence.

MC: I don't have strong connections to any of them.

Solomon: You seemed pretty close to Diavolo back there.

Did it really look that way?

Solomon: Do you even know who you were dancing with?

MC: That's Diavolo's...Aspect, right?

Solomon: I see Belphegor has already explained things to you.

Solomon: Yes, that was Diavolo's Reflection.

MC: ?!

Solomon: The Devildom in this reality is ruled by Diavolo's Reflection. That's why you find it so unsettling and strange.

I came to think of Reflections as cruel and indifferent. They're very cold.

MC: He seemed...warm enough.

At least his hand was.

Solomon: ...

Solomon: That's because he wants something from you.

MC: Yes, he wants a meeting with Decimus.

MC: That can be arranged. Decimus' mindset is shifting. It might even happen on its own, without my interference.

MC: Once Diavolo gets what he wants, he will forget about me.

Solomon: He might. Or he might not.

Solomon: If you've been useful to him once, you might be useful again.

Solomon: What do you know about Reflections?

MC: Not much, other than the term.

Solomon: Reflections are just like the original entities, only in reverse.

Solomon: They exist on **the other side** , and it's a dark side.

Solomon: All that is good in an entity is turned to evil. And all that is evil is amplified to the extreme.

Solomon: Loyalty turns into betrayal, kindness into cruelty, compassion into indifference, consideration into carelessness.

Solomon: Those who were supposed to be responsible and just will use their powers indiscriminately to achieve their ends.

Solomon: Reflections are ruthless and vindictive. They're incapable of affection.

MC: (Just like me.)

Solomon: But they can also be quite possessive. Once they want something, they're relentless in pursuing it. And once they get a hold of something they want, they're unable to let go.

MC: (Like me...)

Solomon: If you get entangled with a Reflection, even death will not be able to sever that bond.

MC: (That's just like my relationship with Luke.)

MC: Solomon, am I a Reflection?

Solomon: ...

Solomon falls silent. For several long moments, he is scrutinizing me. His expression is unreadable.

Finally, he speaks, but he says something unexpected.

Solomon: Even though we're yet to have the official ceremony, you're my apprentice now. You should address me as **Master**.

MC: ...

MC: Do you really want someone like me as an apprentice?

MC: Isn't such a student more trouble than it's worth?

Solomon: It's too late to change your mind now. Do you think I'm someone who can be toyed with?

MC: ...

Solomon: No matter who you were in the past, who you are now, or who you're going to become, you are my apprentice.

Solomon: I have many tasks in mind for you, and I expect you to work hard at them.

Solomon: Do you understand?

MC: Yes... Master.

Solomon nods in satisfaction.

Solomon: You're not a Reflection.

MC: !

Solomon: But you might be in danger of becoming a **local**.

MC: ?!

Solomon: This might happen if your connections to the locals become too strong.

Solomon: Rather than worrying about your **current identity** , worry about your **affiliations**.

MC: Do you mean Luke?

Solomon: Your bond with Luke can't be helped. After all, you owe your current mode of existence to him.

Solomon: And he is just one entity. He alone is not enough to bind you to this side. You could always leave him behind. I'm sure you already considered doing that.

MC: ...

Solomon: Or, if it comes to that, you could bring him over to **the other side**.

MC: ...Would he want that?

Solomon: Why not? Shadows and Reflections are always eager to take over their original counterparts.

MC: (I don't know if it's such a great idea...)

Solomon: Anyway, Luke alone is still fine, he is manageable. But if you get entangled with Diavolo's Reflection, there will be trouble. Diavolo is in an entirely different league from Luke.

MC: What about Decimus?

Solomon: That one... exists beyond the mirrors, beyond the layers of realities and dreams, outside of the boundaries of time and space.

Solomon: Just like you.

MC: !

Solomon: It doesn't matter even if you get along with him. Which is fortunate, seeing how things have already progressed this far.

Solomon's gaze flickers towards the Impersonator talisman on my chest, which definitely should NOT be visible through all the layers of clothing.

I lower my eyes.

Solomon: With that out of the way...

Solomon: What's that I hear about a flower thief?

MC: Ahaha...

Solomon: Weren't you supposed to be recovering?

MC: I only went on a very short outing! Just to stretch my legs.

Solomon: Your "short outings" always end up having colossal consequences.

MC: An exaggeration, surely.

Solomon: Not at all. There is a huge commotion happening right now in your original world.

MC: A commotion...?

Solomon: Both RAD and the House of Lamentations are on the lockdown, and mirrors are now outlawed in the entire Devildom.

MC: ...

MC: (What...?)

Solomon: The only place still in possession of mirrors is the Demon Lord's Castle.

Solomon: I'm sure you don't need me to say it, but it's a **very obvious trap**.

Solomon: I have never seen a trap so crude before, but perhaps they think if it worked once, it would work again.

MC: (Welp, looks like I won't be visiting my original world for a while.)

Solomon: You don't seem too impatient to rush back there again.

MC: (Does he think I'm attracted to traps or something...?)

Solomon: But what has caused your previous reckless excursion?

Solomon: Are you perhaps unable to resist a trap?

This is exactly what I was worried about. Now he thinks I have strange tastes...!

MC: Of course not. But I had to get that mirage flower. I **had** to.

Solomon: Why?

MC: ...

How am I supposed to tell him that I stole that flower to give it to him as a gift, and then I just ... lost it? It's too disgraceful for words.

Solomon: I want to know what motivated you to take such a huge risk.

I don't want to say it. I don't want to admit my failure. This is pathetic. My plans never work out when it concerns him. Why do I always fail that badly in trying to impress him?

Solomon: Answer my question.

MC: ...

I admit I still don't know much about Solomon. I did, however, learn a few minor things about him. For example, I know that he really values information.

He likes to stay informed about everything that's going on, as long as it's within his sphere of interest. He has a vast intel net in the human realm, and the one he has in the Devildom is also quite widespread. He rarely even has to ask questions.

If I couldn't give him the flower, I could at least give him this — the answer to his question.

Pathetic, I know. This piece of information is almost of zero value, but it's all I have.

I start speaking, but I can't look Solomon in the eye.

MC: Apparently, the mirage flower is a very rare flower that is endangered in my original world. And it went completely extinct in all the other worlds.

Solomon: Yes. And?

MC: And, it would make a very rare ingredient.

Solomon: ...And?

MC: And, I thought it would make a suitable gift.

MC: I was planning to present that flower to you during the apprenticeship ceremony.

Solomon: ...

MC: I mean, it's really hard to find something appropriate. I looked at your shelves, and you have all sorts of rare ingredients already.

Solomon: ...

MC: But the mirage flower is unique. There was a good chance that you wouldn't have it. 

MC: I wanted it to be a surprise. I wanted it to be **memorable**. I wanted to make you happy with that gift.

MC: I don't have much power, but at least I have this — my ability to travel between worlds.

MC: It was supposed to be proof of my value as an apprentice.

MC: It was worth the risk.

Solomon: ...

Why is he silent?

I gather up my courage and look him in the face.

Solomon is staring at me. He looks shocked.

But just a moment later, his expression smooths again. He reaches out his hands.

Solomon: Well? Where's my flower?

Kill me now...

MC: It's...not here.

Solomon: You didn't manage to steal it?

MC: It's not that. I stole it. I brought it to this world.

MC: But then, the flower has been...seized.

Solomon: Who seized it?

At some point, this has become a full-blown interrogation. Why does he want to know all those insignificant details?

MC: Diavolo did.

Solomon: ...

Solomon: Diavolo has **my flower** now?

MC: Y-yeah. His Reflection has it, to be precise.

Solomon: The one who was dancing with you just a few minutes ago has it?

MC: Yes. He is also the one who was present during my trial by combat.

Solomon: How did he manage to seize my flower?

MC: I gave it to him.

Solomon: ... **What**?

MC: He caught me right after I entered the castle. He thought the flower was his birthday gift.

MC: And then I just... gave it to him.

Solomon: ...

Eeek. He's started smiling again. That pleasant smile of his is absolutely terrifying.

MC: I wasn't going to give it to him, but he looked so happy. It was his flower originally anyway. He was in his true form. It's really hard to refuse him because he's so beautiful —

What am I even saying?!

During my rambling, Solomon's smile has gained a few Watts, and now it has become positively blinding. It has also gained a razor-sharp edge.

Solomon: So, let me see if I got this right.

Solomon: **That rare flower meant for me, you gave it to a demon**?

I'm taking so much spiritual damage from this conversation, I can almost feel the bruises.

Why, why did he have to phrase it that way? And is it really necessary to speak of Diavolo as though he's some random lower demon?

I make a last-ditch effort to salvage the situation.

MC: ...D-Diavolo is merely holding your flower hostage. After I do what he requires of me, he'll give it back.

Solomon: I see.

He is staring at me. Is this interrogation over? My pride is in shambles. When is he going to dismiss me? I want to crawl back and lick my wounds...

Solomon: The apprenticeship ceremony is next week.

MC: !

Solomon: It's too bad you don't have a gift prepared, but I don't want to make things **too hard** for you.

What an insincere statement. From his tone, it's clear that he does want to make things hard for me.

Solomon: I'll write you a list of gifts to choose from.

He sits at the table and starts to write.

Solomon: (scribble, scribble)

That's a long list...

Finally, he finishes writing.

Solomon: Everything listed here is something I'd be happy to receive.

Solomon: Naturally, all of these items are extremely hard to find.

Solomon: If you can't find a single item from this list —

Solomon hands me the long scroll with a smile.

Solomon: — I won't be **too disappointed**.

Another obviously insincere statement. I accept the scroll wordlessly, and glance at it.

Mirage flower is listed as number one on the list.

MC: ...

He actually wants that flower, and he's given me a deadline.

Solomon: You'd better return now. If Decimus sees your sleeping body and realizes you're absent, he might wake you up forcibly. Then you would have a very unpleasant return.

Solomon smiles again. The idea of me having a very unpleasant return seems to amuse him.

I make my escape.

...

...

MC: ...

I open my eyes.

My body is so stiff, and my muscles are aching.

It's already morning. I've been absent longer than usual.

Slowly, I sit up on my bed.

There is a movement to my right.

MC: !

I start invoking my silver sickle.

Wait. It's —

A pair of blurry angelic eyes are glaring at me in the moonlight.

Luke: You stink of demons.

MC: Sorry, sorry.

Hurriedly, I stuff the half-summoned sickle back into my pocket.

Luke: Go take a shower.

MC: ...Sure.

As soon as I returned, I got kicked out of my own bed...

I get out of bed and I stretch my stiff limbs. Where's the bathroom?

Luke: What a gaudy outfit.

I pause on my way to the door. Does it really look that bad on me?

Maybe I should've paid more attention to the design rather than to the amount of fabric.

MC: You don't like it?

Luke: It's a bit too late to ask me that, don't you think?!

With a sudden movement, Luke dives under the blankets, hiding himself completely.

He's sulking...

MC: ...It was only a short outing. I would've told you about it, but you were reporting to Michael.

He mutters something in response, but I can't hear him through all the blankets.

MC: Did Decimus come here while I was away?

They didn't have a conflict, or anything like that?

Luke: ...Demons!

MC: ?

Luke's head emerges from underneath the blankets. He's glaring at me.

Luke: You only care about demons!

MC: That's not true.

I'm still holding Solomon's scroll. I put it on the bedside table. I'll have to give it a thorough read later.

Luke does not respond. I have an urge to pat his head, but he did say that I stink. He's probably sensing the after-effects of possession.

All right, shower first. It's almost the appointed time, anyway.

But before I can reach the door, Luke jumps out of the bed and overtakes me.

Luke: (trot, trot)

MC: !

Luke opens the bathroom door and checks the inside.

MC: (Oh, come ON.)

MC: (What dangers could possibly lie in wait there?)

Luke frowns. He enters the bathroom.

MC: (What is he doing in there? He couldn't have possibly found something threatening?)

I follow Luke in, only to find him glowering at the mirror hanging on the wall.

MC: ...

Luke reaches out his hand. The mirror's surface dims, becoming completely opaque and non-reflective.

MC: ...I'm not going anywhere.

MC: Besides, this mirror is too small. I can't even crawl through.

MC: Maybe someone of your stature could.

Luke gives me the evil eye.

Luke: The meeting with Simeon is in half an hour.

Luke: Don't even think about wearing this red thing to it.

He exits the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.


	63. The Return

A few minutes before the appointed time, Luke and I board a flying carriage with a royal crest, and now we're on our way to RAD.

Not bad, this carriage is really luxurious. Plus, we finally have a few moments to talk in private.

MC: I don't understand, how could I just give that flower back? What's gotten into me? Is that a sudden emergence of conscience? I was fully committed to the crime of theft!

MC: Is it because I hang out with an angel that my sins have weakened to the point where it's begun to negatively impact my behavior?

Luke: ...Have you forgotten that you're a human? Also, **negatively**?

MC: Do you think Diavolo used his innate ability of negotiation to convince me?

Luke snorts.

Luke: It's true that Diavolo has the presence of authority and is capable of convincing others with a few words, but...

MC: But?

Luke: In your case, I bet he didn't have to do any of that.

MC: What do you mean?

Luke: I bet all he had to do was change into his true form and just stand there, and you'd give him anything he wanted.

MC: ...

Luke: If he added a smile on top of that, you'd even be happy while surrendering that flower.

MC: ...

Luke: I bet you **ogled** him while you did that, too.

Why is Luke using such penetrating words? I feel those verbal jabs in my very soul.

Outside of the window, I can see the outline of RAD.

Luke: Don't get cozy with too many demons. After my manifestation ceremony is done, I'll come back and check on you.

MC: Make sure to show off your wings properly during the ceremony and leave everyone in awe. And don't forget your purification bath.

With barely an impact, the carriage lands softly before the front entrance.

Simeon is waiting for us at the gates. Good, I won't have to enter that place.

We get out of the carriage.

Simeon doesn't look too well. In fact, he has the eyes of someone who hasn't slept for a hundred years.

MC: Are you all right...?

Simeon gives me a bright smile.

Simeon: I am **perfectly fine**.

Luke: ...

MC: You have dark circles under your eyes. You look a little depressed. Are you sure nothing has happened?

Simeon gives a short, cheerful laugh.

I take a small step back.

Simeon: It's only been one night since we've seen each other last.

Simeon: **What could possibly happen during such a short time**?

I feel an overwhelming urge to escape, but I still have some things to give to Simeon...

Let's get this over with.

I hand Simeon a golden orb.

MC: This is for Michael. It contains his wings.

Simeon takes it and hides it carefully in his pocket.

MC: Decimus has repaired these wings, so they're as good as new. He's also made a few improvements.

Simeon: What sort of... improvements?

MC: He's upgraded control and maneuverability. I've already put these wings to the test myself. They've become noticeably easier to operate.

MC: The horizontal thrust has become really smooth, and I can now hover without any conscious thought. Despite all the power challenged through, it's easy to stop exactly where you want. I think even the power efficiency has improved.

I no longer have the nucleus, but Decimus powered up the wings directly from the Source, and he used some sort of coating to protect my body from the Celestial fire too. He created this whole system for me in five minutes flat, just because I wanted to try these wings out for the last time. That convinced me of his unparalleled skill as an Artisan.

Luke: Is that all he's done to the wings?

MC: No need to worry, there are no traps. Although there are some... aesthetic adjustments.

Simeon: ...Michael is very particular about his appearance.

MC: If he doesn't like something about the wings' functionality or appearance, he can always visit the Valley of Ruin. Decimus promised to make tailor-fitted adjustments for him if he wants.

Next, I hand Simeon the Long Ring of Succubus Touch.

He accepts it gingerly, and stares at it. His eyes are moving over the lewd images covering the ring.

Simeon: ???

MC: This is for Michael too.

Simeon: ...

Luke: ...

MC: He knows what it's about.

Simeon looks like he wants to drop this ring right now.

Luke: I'm sure there is no need for... THAT.

MC: No, it's necessary.

MC: He can throw it away if he wants, but be sure to deliver it to him personally first.

It's Michael's reward for telling me how to restore Luke's Purity. I promised that whoever can answer my question would be rewarded with this ring, after all. To me, a promise is a pretty big deal.

With visible reluctance, Simeon wraps the ring in a handkerchief and pockets it.

Next, I hand Simeon my backpack. He glances inside it, and his expression worsens.

The backpack is full of empty milk bottles.

Simeon: What am I supposed to do with them?

MC: I dunno. Recycle them? Keep them as a memento?

Simeon: ...

Finally, I take out the object Simeon has been waiting for.

I hand Simeon the golden bracelet, Delegation of Authority.

MC: I think the Celestial Realm has been searching for this thing.

He accepts it.

Delegation of Authority sits innocently in Simeon's half-opened hand. Slowly, he closes his fingers around it.

That's all. I don't really like goodbyes, so I'm going to wrap it up quickly.

MC: Well, I'll be seeing you. Make sure to take Luke's pictures during his ceremony, I want to have a look.

Simeon: I'll think about it.

Without further ado, I turn around and get in the carriage.

MC: Let's return.

The carriage takes off.

 _ding_.

I check the incoming message.

[Luke: You didn't have to leave so abruptly.]

[Luke: I'm sure Simeon wanted to talk to you more.]

[MC: If he wanted me to listen to his complaints, he should've at least promised to take your picture.]

[Luke: It's forbidden to take pictures during the manifestation ceremony.]

[Luke: The fact that he hasn't refused outright is already strange.]

[Luke: Usually, Simeon avoids anything that could get him in trouble.]

I don't really want to get an angel in trouble...

[MC: Even Michael can't take pictures?]

[Luke: Michael, take pictures during an official ceremony?]

[Luke: No way. He'd never do that.]

[Luke: I've never seen him do that before.]

[Luke: ...You're going to ask him, aren't you?]

I'm already sending a message.

[MC: Could you take pictures of Luke during his manifestation ceremony and send them to me?]

[MC: Even though humans can't be present, I want to have a memory of it.]

_ding._

[WinglessOne: Portrait or panoramic?]

[MC: Both.]

[WinglessOne: OK.]

[MC: Thank you.]

MC: ...

[MC: Aren't you going to ask for anything in return?]

[WinglessOne: You've spent too much time with the demons.]

Does that mean he doesn't want anything?

[MC: Luke, your photo session has been arranged.]

[MC: Tell Simeon that I don't need his help with that.]

There is a _ding_ of Luke's response, but before I can check it, the air shifts and blurs.

The carriage is passing through the portal.

I'm returning to the Valley of Ruin.


	64. Funeral Case #904,609

A few hours later...

We're in Decimus' laboratory.

I wanted to participate in a funeral rite, and he has one scheduled at this hour.

Decimus stands at a carved obsidian structure that looks like a mix between an altar and a control panel. Countless holographic screens are hovering around him, depicting geological strata, temperature distribution, concentration of Prime, and even the position of the moon and the stars.

A large black egg made of Prime is hovering above the altar.

If you look closely, you can see particles of dust being drawn out of the egg and consumed by the coating of Prime. It gives a visual impression that the egg is throbbing.

Like a beating heart.

This must be a demonic core.

Or what's more likely, the core is somewhere inside this egg. It looks like Decimus is still in the process of excavating it.

He is operating on the egg using green threads. They look the same as the ones he used when extracting my soul.

I wish I knew exactly what he's doing, but I don't want to distract him with questions. Concentration is important during soul extraction. I'm sure it is no different with a demonic core.

Decimus: This egg-like formation is a mini-portal.

MC: !

Decimus: The core itself is still eight hundred meters underground, fused with the bedrock. I've created a Prime channel between the core and the altar. I'm using these threads to chisel away the rock encasing the core. Once the core is safely extracted, I will pull it out through the portal link.

Decimus: I've done this many, many times. This task is routine to me.

Even as he speaks, the egg stops pulsating.

Decimus: Done.

Slowly, the shell of the egg crumbles into motes of Prime, revealing a dark spherical object.

Decimus: This is the demonic core.

The core is hovering above the altar. This is the first demonic core I've ever seen.

It's not much to look at. It has dull grey color, and it's cracked and dented in several places.

To my untrained eye, it looks lifeless.

MC: Can it still reincarnate?

Decimus: Unlikely. The integrity of the core is damaged too much. Even an attempt at reincarnation will probably completely destroy it. It would be better to return it to Prime.

Decimus: But first, identification.

A scroll manifests in the air, and lines of burning writing appear on it.

It's a distribution of demonic sins. All the sins are very low, and they don't differ much from each other.

MC: Is it a lower demon?

Decimus: Yes. Most of the remaining ones are.

The completed scroll hovers in the air.

Decimus: Take the scroll.

Gingerly, I extend my hand and pick the scroll up.

Decimus: The archives are over there.

Decimus points at the long rows of shelves.

Decimus: Try to identify the demon by comparing these attributes to the ones recorded in the archive.

Decimus: Meanwhile, I will attempt to repair the core.

MC: Is it possible to repair it?

Decimus: The substance itself cannot be altered, but sometimes I have some success with cleaning up the surface and strengthening the outer shell.

I move towards the rows of bookshelves.

Let's see... Many of these are labeled as complete already. So most of these demons must have already been identified.

As I walk past a bookshelf, the Impersonator talisman on my chest tingles. Instinctively, I place one hand over it. At the same moment, the scroll in my hand glows and twitches.

MC: Whoa!

The scroll is fluttering in my grip, trying to fly away.

MC: ?

It seems to want to go in a particular direction. Is it trying to guide me?

I let go of it. The scroll hovers up towards a shelf, next to a thick grimoire.

Let's check this out.

I pull out the grimoire. The moment I touch it, the pages of the grimoire start moving on their own, flipping fast until they stop abruptly.

I look at the open page.

Lower demons are listed here.

Apparently, lower demons don't warrant their own grimoire. Instead, hundreds of them are grouped together into a single grimoire, and each of them gets their own line.

On the open page, a single line is glowing.

I read it.

The line informs me that this lower demon was a scout. The IDs of his division and squad are listed, followed by a string of numbers that are clearly the attributes of sins.

I take the fluttering scroll and compare the scroll's attributes to the one in the grimoire. They're identical.

As I watch, the content of the scroll changes. The information from the glowing line is being automatically copied over to the scroll.

Then several new lines appear underneath.

[Identification complete.]

[Funeral case #904,609]

[3030 aem, broken moon 13: The subject is identified as a lower demon, a scout. The funeral case is opened.]

Well, that was fast. And I was just starting to get into it. Should I look up more information?

The lower demon doesn't have a name, but the first and the last number in his funeral case is nine. I decide to refer to him as Nine.

It's not a sustainable naming technique while working with a large number of demons, but I probably won't have to look at too many of them before something happens.

All right, let's look up Nine's squad.

The archives have clearly labeled information, and they're all neatly organized. It doesn't take me long to find the record of Nine's division and squad.

I flip through the record. Apparently, Nine was a part of a squad of ten, formed specifically for the battle of Aspire Ridge. The commander of his squad was a mid-ranked winged demon, whose name was Swoop.

I immediately look up Swoop in the archive. I find him on the shelves of complete cases. His core has already been excavated, and he has successfully reincarnated a few centuries ago.

I locate his record in the collective grimoire.

Apparently, mid-ranked demons are allotted a paragraph in a grimoire. But Swoop was an exception. Maybe for some achievement, or perhaps as part of a promotion, he was allotted an entire page.

And he wrote personally in it.

His handwriting is difficult to read. I don't know if it's because he didn't get a lot of practice, or because he struggled maintaining his human form. Maybe his claws were getting in the way. But it's hard to make out his writing, and what I can read is quite disjointed.

Not to mention, it doesn't really contain a lot of useful information.

[Swoop: Break...slaughter...tear asunder...rip to shreds...devour...trample...]

Swoop goes on and on in the same manner for almost the entire page. Then, apparently having gotten that out of his system, he switches to a different subject. At least, some words appear in his writing not related to violence.

[Swoop: The Source will be ours...the Prince of Lies will build...the city of...asp ire...And there we shall...destroy no more...build, grow and prosper...create things of wonder...even angels will be...in awe...]

MC: !

So it looks like Swoop knew exactly what they were fighting for.

There is only one line left.

[Swoop: Should we perish...I and my entire squad...]

Wait, does this look like a **will**?

[Swoop: Commend our cores...to the Prince of Lies...Juggernaut...to do with them as he pleases.]

MC: Decimus, I found a will!

Decimus: Really?

Decimus interrupts his work to come and check out my find. He reads through the grimoire page carefully, then consults the scroll with the updated information.

Decimus: Yes, this does count as a will. What a rare find.

Decimus: It's not uncommon for officers to write a will for the soldiers under their command. I just don't often see it done for the lower demons.

Decimus: I have certainly never seen it done in a poetical form.

A poetical form? I suppose it does rhyme occasionally. Somewhat.

MC: It says here you can do as you please with the core of that lower demon.

MC: What do you want to do with it?

Decimus: Well, I thought it would be best to return him to Prime. However...

Decimus: What I really want to do is attempt a reincarnation.

Decimus: I haven't done that in centuries. Something to break the monotony would be nice.

MC: What's the difference between returning to Prime and reincarnation?

Decimus: A successful reincarnation is the best case scenario. Everyone wants that.

Decimus: During the reincarnation, the true essence of the entity is preserved. All the powers are preserved, completely intact — although that's less of an issue for lower demons, who don't really have any powers. Only superficial things are reforged.

MC: What sort of superficial things?

Decimus: Physical form and all that comes with it.

Decimus: Sometimes, even the identity and the memories can be preserved.

Decimus: Returning to Prime, on the other hand, reforges everything that can be attributed to a demon as an individual. Nothing but pure Prime remains.

Decimus: One day, another demon will be made out of that Prime. But it would be a completely different demon. Or perhaps, this Prime will be used for some Infernal creation.

Decimus: The individual is gone forever, but the sum total of Infernal Power does not change.

Decimus: Angels, on the other hand, need to be returned to Essence, if their reincarnation isn't possible. This way, they will contribute to the sum total of Celestial Power.

MC: But Carmine couldn't be returned to Essence. I remember you spoke about returning him to the Source.

Decimus: Returning to the Source is the option of last resort, when no other route is available. The entity is completely broken down into particles and becomes pure energy, the Source of creation. One day, it would be used for either Infernal of Celestial works.

Decimus: But there is no way to determine which it would be.

Decimus: Most Sources are only used for a single purpose: either Celestial or Infernal.

Decimus: When the Source comes to the surface and is exposed either to Celestial or Infernal air, it turns into either Essence or Prime.

Decimus: However, the Aspire Source is different. I've built a structure around it that is half sanctified and half cursed, and I rotate that structure as it suits my needs. This results in either Essence or Prime produced on demand.

Decimus: That is how I can use this Source for both Celestial and Infernal works, and sometimes a combination of both.

Decimus: That is why, having become a part of Aspire Source, Carmine has a chance of returning to this world as a Celestial flower.

Decimus: Or maybe his Essence has already been used for working on Michael's wings.

Decimus: Of course, there is an equal chance that he's been used for one of my Infernal creations.

Decimus: There is no way to determine for sure. That uncertainty is all I could offer him.

MC: So those are the only ways to deal with the departed?

Decimus: Naturally, there are many other ways.

Decimus: For example, you could **eat** the entity.

Decimus: Or you could break it down for **ingredients**.

Decimus: If nothing else works, what awaits is oblivion.

Decimus: Anything is better than that.

MC: ...

Decimus: Even angels would prefer to be eaten rather than annihilated.

Decimus: An oblivion is a complete destruction of an entity, so that nothing is left.

Decimus: That's why reincarnation is risky. A failure during a reincarnation could result in complete destruction. Not only the entity would be gone forever, but the sum total of the Infernal Power would decrease. That reduces our weight on the greater scale.

Decimus: The weaker the entity, the riskier the reincarnation.

Decimus: Lower demons have very low chances of a successful reincarnation. To begin with, they don't have much structure or enough of an identity. Even their memories are short. They're almost pure Prime already. Their sins are just too low to pull them through.

Decimus: What's more... The longer funeral rites are delayed, the longer the cores remains buried there, the lower the chances of successful reincarnation.

Decimus: That's why I started from higher demons and mid-rankers. They have higher chances for reincarnation, and I wanted to give them the best possible chance of success.

Decimus: But that is also why I've been dealing with the lower demons for the last few centuries. They're the only ones left. And they have next to no chance of successful reincarnation.

Decimus: After multiple reincarnation failures, and one where I nearly lost the core, I've stopped trying. But I'm still looking. If I ever come across a lower core whose condition is good, I will —

Decimus stops and rubs his eyes. For several long moments, he is silent.

Decimus: Father was right.

Decimus: I'm wasting my time. It would be faster to return them all to Prime at once.

MC: ...

The idea clearly depresses him.

MC: Let's do as written in this will.

MC: Since you want to attempt a reincarnation, let's attempt it.

MC: I want to see at least once how it's done.

MC: I'm sure you have enough skill to keep the core intact no matter what, but...

MC: I'll take responsibility if Nine ends up destroyed.

Decimus: ...Nine?

Decimus: I see, his first and the last number. A fitting name.

Amusement flickers his Decimus' eyes.

Decimus: I am not so tired of responsibility that I'd need to abdicate it, but...

Decimus: ...Neither am I stingy enough that I would refuse to share it.

Share?

That's a rather unusual feeling. It's...new.

MC: Lucifer never wanted to share responsibility with me...

Decimus' lips curve into a smile.

Decimus: I am not Lucifer.

Wait, did I blurt that out loud?

Decimus: Very well. Let's attempt reincarnation.


	65. The First Ritual

Decimus: I am able to bestow a reincarnation upon any entity, as long as I can get my hands on the core. It is a privilege of the royal family, and...the King granted me an exemption to use it.

Decimus: Or at least, I am able to try.

I notice that the core hovering above the altar looks better than before. It's become more polished. Upon closer inspection, the polish turns out to be a thin coating of Prime. Looks like Decimus reinforced the core from the outside.

Decimus: There are different kinds of reincarnations. But only one kind is suitable for lower demons.

Decimus: The **guided Infernal reconstruction**.

Decimus: I'm going to activate the core.

Decimus: Then I will reconstruct the demon's physical form.

Decimus extends his hand.

An hourglass manifests to the left of the altar.

Decimus: Once all the sand in the hourglass runs out, the reconstruction will be complete.

Decimus: However, this kind of work is a strain upon the entity.

Decimus: Therefore, success depends on the entity's personal power.

Decimus: The limit to what a lower demon can endure is determined by the strength of its core and the power of its Sins.

To the right, a gauge of sins appears, with multicolored liquids splashing in seven vials.

Decimus: If the gauge empties completely, or the core breaks before the reconstruction is complete, the reincarnation will fail.

Decimus sweeps his gaze over the altar.

Decimus: Everything is ready.

Decimus: Now I only need to make a sacrifice.

Decimus: For a lower demon, not much is required. Just a drop of blood will do.

Decimus takes out a ritual silver dagger. I've seen Solomon use a similar tool quite a few times, although he prefers a silver needle.

MC: Wait.

Decimus pauses with the dagger against his hand.

MC: Let me do it.

Decimus: ...

MC: Haven't you spent enough of your blood on these rituals?

MC: It's my turn now.

Decimus: I don't mind, but...

Decimus: If the ritual fails, the one who made the sacrifice will receive the backlash.

MC: How strong is that backlash? Is it enough to destroy a human?

Decimus: It won't cause any physical harm.

MC: Is there metaphysical harm, then?

Decimus: ...No.

Decimus: It's just...distressing.

Decimus: Emotionally.

That's even a bigger reason for me to do it instead. Looking at the number of cases, I'm sure he's suffered quite enough emotional damage already, even if he's had only a few total failures.

MC: I'm the one who insisted on the ritual.

MC: I'll do it.

Decimus: ...Very well.

Decimus hands me the dagger and points at an ornamental cup.

Decimus: This is the receptacle.

I use the dagger to draw a drop of my blood. Slowly, it drips off my finger and falls into the cup.

The cup flares up with sapphire flame, and the altar lights up with a sinister dark glow. Numerous glowing symbols appear in a circle around the altar. An oppressive air starts radiating from it.

Decimus: Let's begin.

Green threads emanate from his hands, wrapping around the core.

The core lights up. It is engulfed in burning Prime.

The hourglass flips. The sand starts falling.

And the gauge of Sins is thrown into turmoil.

The multicolored liquid indicating the level of Sins is boiling and churning. It seems to be evaporating even as I watch.

My heart sinks. It's too fast. This way, the Sins will run out of power long before the reconstruction is complete.

Decimus must realize that as well, but his expression doesn't change. He is concentrating on the ritual.

A dark shape is forming around the core, upon the altar.

It looks like a typical lower demon, the canine kind. He has long ears and longer fangs. His claws are considerable as well.

 _sizzle_.

The gauge of Sloth sizzles and runs out. A shock runs across all the other gauges, and the level of liquid in them decreases as well.

_sizzle._

Almost instantly, the gauge of Gluttony runs out. Another shock runs across the vials, decreasing the level of Sins again.

MC: (It's like a chain reaction! And it's happening **too fast**.)

But Decimus is fast as well. The form on the altar solidifies, and Nine opens his eyes.

He has completely black eyes, and they're cloudy with madness.

Nine is clearly confused to find himself upon the altar, in a half-incorporeal state. He starts thrashing about, struggling against the green threads binding him.

MC: (Oh no, a moving vessel is harder to work with!)

_sizzle._

_sizzle._

In quick succession, Lust and Envy run out.

Now, only Wrath, Greed, and Pride are left.

If this continues, the ritual will be over in seconds.

I reach out and tweak Nine's nose.

Nine: !

Decimus: !

Reflexively, Nine opens his maw and chomps on my hand.

Decimus: !!

MC: It's okay.

I can handle one lower demon. Especially in his weakened, half-incorporeal state.

Before Nine's teeth can pierce my skin, the bracelet on my hand heats up, and an armored glove manifests on my hand.

The demon's teeth slide across my glove, making a noise like nails on a chalkboard.

Nine wrinkles his incorporeal nose and flattens his ears. But he doesn't unclench his teeth, even though most lower demons would let go in an instant, because of how disgusting the experience is.

Well, at least the appearance of a target has distracted him enough that he's stopped thrashing.

Let's keep him occupied.

I allow Nine to gnaw upon my armored hand to his heart's content, and use my other hand to scratch him under the chin.

His eyes narrow. He's considering unclenching his teeth in order to bite my other hand. But he suspects my other hand would also be armored (it would).

_sizzle._

Wrath is next to follow. Only two Sins are left.

But the sand in the hourglass is not even halfway gone...

Still, Decimus hasn't given up yet. And neither have I.

I scratch Nine behind the ears. His ears twitch. He'd stopped chewing on my hand, and now he's simply holding it in his jaws. He is much more solid now. I notice a black-and-white pattern on his back.

_sizzle._

Greed is gone. Only a little Pride still splashes at the very bottom of the vial.

I pet Nine on the top of his head. He half closes his eyes. He's stopped struggling. He has a scaly tail now, decorated with spikes.

Just a little more. If only Pride holds out...

**_sizzle._ **

**_flash._ **

But it doesn't hold.

Pride, the last Sin remaining, runs out.

The entire gauge of Sins shatters at once.

The altar emits an angry hum. A jolt runs through Nine's body. I sense, rather than hear, the reinforced coating of Prime around his core cracking.

MC: Hang in there, Nine. You can make it!

For a brief moment, Nine's eyes clear. An intelligence appears in his gaze directed at me. He releases my hand and flickers out a slippery tongue, licking my fingers, the same spot where I made a cut with the ritual dagger. The cut stings, even though it didn't before.

There is a flash of dark light. Instinctively, I squeeze my eyes shut.

When I open my eyes again, Nine is gone.

Only his core is still hovering in midair. But now, this core has multiple deep fractures. It looks on the verge of breaking.

The altar has gone dark.

Decimus: The ritual is a failure.

Decimus: Brace yourself for the backlash.

My vision blurs. I am transported to a different time, a different place.

A different body.

This is...Nine's memory.

And in that memory, I am Nine, the lower demon.

The world is breaking apart. The mountain heaves and trembles. I am dashing amidst the roiling rocks. I've been scouting out the opposing army, separated from my squad, when this happened.

A wave of azure oblivion approaches me, grinding all that exists into nothing. There is no way out.

A shadow of wings falls upon me from above, and a flying demon swoops down upon me.

Commander.

Swoop sinks his talons into my shoulders and drags me up, just as the azure wave obliterates my location. He is hauling me away, flapping his wings frantically.

Soon, we catch up with my other nine squadmates, who are also trying to escape the inferno. Four of them are too injured to move, and have to be carried. Here, the ground is a little more stable, but I can still see the approaching azure wave.

Swoop drops me to the ground, and I rejoin the squad.

Swoop: Run, run! Get away from the epicenter!

We sprint, unconsciously maintaining formation, taking turns to carry the injured. Swoop flies overhead, observing the surroundings and shouting directions to us.

_What's going on?_

Someone asks the question that's on my mind.

Swoop: The King's wrath. Aspire Ridge is lost.

That means the angels won't get it either.

_Serves them right._

I glance behind me. We're too slow. It's because of the unstable mountain terrain. The inferno is almost upon us.

We're not going to make it.

Swoop: This way!

Commander leads us to a deep, narrow crevice.

We gather in front of it, bewildered.

_What is this?_

Swoop: This is your grave, and your sarcophagus.

Swoop: You're going to die, but you will not be destroyed.

Swoop: One day, you will be reincarnated. You know what it means, right?

Yes. We will see the moon again.

I look up, into Swoop's face. His eyes are reflecting nothing.

I have seen Commander chat with angels, smiling like a friend. He loathes angels, all of them, no exceptions.

I can never tell whether he's lying or not.

But the battle for Aspire Source has been going on for eleven years already, and we're all still alive. He makes sure we always have food to eat. And he has never abandoned us. He has never led us astray.

Commander is never wrong.

Swoop: A solid mass of rock should be enough to weaken even the King's power.

Swoop: Don't give up, and wait to be reincarnated.

Swoop: **Sleep**.

My body is growing numb. With his order, the commander turned off our pain receptors, but now I can no longer move. I sink to the shaking ground.

Swoop: No time for goodbyes.

Swoop: In you go.

Swoop kicks the nearest squadmate into the crevice.

It's a long fall down before I finally hear the thumps of the body breaking.

The others follow suit. I am the last one to fall. I turn in midair, and see the narrow strip of the sky, and Commander's outline against the moon. The azure haze turns everything into fractured fragments, giving an impression that the moon is broken.

_Don't give up, and wait to be reincarnated._

Commander doesn't make mistakes. I will definitely see the moon again.

I just want to let out one last howl. I am proud of my voice. It has a great range and diapason. I am the signaler of my squad. Even scouts from the other divisions always envy me, and keep challenging me to singing competitions.

The angels must be fleeing right now too. One petrifying howl would surely do wonders to further demoralize and mock them.

But my voice won't come out. And the narrow strip of the sky is narrowing with each second. Swoop is using his power to seal the crevice shut.

The lid on our sarcophagus is lowering.

What about Commander? I know his rank is higher than ours, and he can fly, but he's still up there. Is he going to make it?

There is an impact.

All light is gone, and I am no more.

...

...

MC: ...

I open my eyes slowly.

Decimus: Take the core.

Wordlessly, I extend my hand.

Just inches away from the core, my hand freezes.

This core looks about to crumble. I am afraid that if I touch it, it would be destroyed.

Decimus: It won't fall apart from a mere touch.

Decimus: Take it.

MC: ...

I close my fingers around the core.

MC: !

It's warm.

Like a heart that's only just stopped beating.

It makes you feel like it can yet be restarted, if you hurry.

Decimus: Place it into the receptacle.

I turn towards the ornamental cup. Sapphire flame is dancing within it, just waiting for something to be consumed.

Decimus: We're going to return it to Prime.

Decimus: It's the only option left.

MC: It's still warm.

Decimus: ...

Decimus: Yes. A core that's recently been active in a physical body is warm.

Decimus: It will take a while for that warmth to fade. Perhaps years. We can't afford to wait that long.

He's right. A damaged core like this won't survive much longer.

I am still in shock, but this must be harder for Decimus. He is the one who did all the work.

Let's get this over with.

I reach out my hand, holding the core above the cup.

Now, I just need to let go.

MC: ...

Come on. All I need to do is unclench my fingers.

MC: ...

For some reason, my fingers won't obey my command.

I attempt to open my hand again.

**I can't do it.**

MC: ???

W-what's going on?

In total confusion, I turn towards Decimus, still clenching the core in my hand.

He takes one look at my face, then lets out a sigh.

Decimus: I should've known this would happen.

Come to think of it, a similar thing happened with the flower earlier. What did Belphie say about it?

MC: Is it really my greed getting out of control...?

Decimus: Why don't you tell me what you're thinking?

MC: ...

MC: Make no mistake, I think returning to Prime is not a bad thing.

MC: Personally, I'd rather be returned to Prime than be reincarnated.

Decimus: You're not a demon, but it's not entirely impossible...

MC: If that's too much trouble, I don't mind being broken into ingredients either.

MC: Although I doubt my body contains anything rare.

MC: Failing all that, I want to be eaten by lower demons.

The expression on Decimus' face is a little strange.

Decimus: ...I'll keep that in mind.

Decimus: But back to the lower core in question...

MC: I just think it would be a waste to completely dissolve him. He actually has a cool personal ability, and I want to hear him use it.

Decimus: ...

MC: It also really pisses me off that I failed my very first ritual.

MC: This entity that's been entrusted in my hands, I refuse to believe that I've failed it.

MC: Actually, I am pretty confident I could still reincarnate him.

MC: Even despite all evidence to the contrary.

MC: Strange, huh?

Decimus: ...

Decimus: The combination of Wrath, Greed, and Pride is the most troublesome one.

MC: So it's because of my Sins?

Decimus: At least partly, yes.

Decimus: The inability to doubt your own strength is typical of Pride.

Decimus: As well as the refusal to admit defeat.

Decimus: You don't know how to give up.

MC: I've caused you trouble. I know I'm slowing down your work.

I examine his face. He doesn't look annoyed.

Decimus: I don't mind a little delay. A few days, even a few months, won't make a difference. And this certainly breaks up the monotony.

Decimus: But what are you planning to do?

MC: First, I'd like to ask you some questions.


	66. A Scammy App

MC: The ritual failed because the Sins ran out of power too quickly.

MC: The Sins of lower demons are too low for reincarnation.

MC: Right?

Decimus: Correct.

Decimus: Before you ask, it's impossible to upgrade a lower core to a mid-ranked one. A core needs to be inside a functional physical form in order to evolve.

MC: That's not what I was going to ask.

MC: I noticed something interesting during the ritual.

Decimus: Oh?

MC: Most of the damage to the gauge of Sins doesn't come from the work you're doing. It comes from the other Sins.

Decimus: What...?

MC: The moment a Sin's gauge runs out completely, there is a shock. It travels across all the other Sins, reducing them at once. It's like a chain reaction.

Decimus is staring at me. Apparently, this is news to him.

MC: Haven't you noticed that...?

But how could he possibly not notice? Maybe I'm mistaken?

Decimus: I...

Decimus: I'm not watching the gauge of Sins during my work. All my attention is on the core.

Decimus: There was no one standing beside me who could observe the ritual.

Decimus: I've watched the records of failures afterwards, of course.

Decimus: I have a record of our ritual, too.

Decimus gestures at the screen, and the record of the ritual we've just done appears on it.

Both of us watch it replay. I can see the gauge of Sins reducing, but this time, I can't tell what's causing this.

Could it be that I saw wrong?

I glance at Decimus. He is watching the replay with his eyes narrowed, his irises shining with sapphire light.

Decimus: You were right.

MC: !

Decimus: A Sin expiring causes chain aftershock damage to all the other Sins.

Decimus: It would appear that below a certain threshold, Sins become interdependent.

Decimus: Treatises could be written based on this simple observation.

Decimus: And it could open new paths in the art of soul.

MC: But now, I can't see it happening at all.

Decimus: It's difficult to see with the naked eye.

Decimus blinks, and the sapphire light in his eyes extinguishes.

Decimus: During the ritual, you must have felt it, as the one who made the sacrifice.

Decimus: As for me, I always feel recoils from the core as I work, and they're overlapping with the aftershocks from the Sins destruction.

Decimus: I'm always doing this alone. This is why I've never noticed —!

Decimus sounds elated. He must already see several ways to put this discovery to use.

MC: I was thinking...

Decimus: Yes...

MC: If one of the Sins was significantly higher than the others...

Decimus: Yes.

Decimus: The first chain aftershock would eliminate all six lower Sins, and the remaining Sin wouldn't suffer any aftershocks for the entire duration of the ritual.

Decimus: Such an approach has its own challenges, but...

Decimus: It could work.

MC: So, in order to raise one Sin above all others, do you think it's possible to...?

Decimus: To dedicate this core to one of the seven domains?

He already knows what I'm thinking about.

Decimus: This is a significant elevation in status for a lower demon.

Decimus: Especially the one without a physical form.

MC: Could a demon even be dedicated in such a state? As just a core, no body?

Decimus is thinking. I'm waiting for this verdict, watching his face hopefully.

Decimus: There are no laws that forbid that.

Decimus: But...

Decimus: There are certain restrictions imposed by the domains themselves.

That doesn't sound good.

MC: What sort of...restrictions?

Decimus: Pride doesn't accept lower demons. Only higher demons are allowed.

Decimus: Gluttony accepts lower demons only for the purpose of eating them.

Decimus: Envy accepts anyone who is capable of maintaining a human form. A core has no physical form at all, much less a human one.

Decimus: Wrath accepts lower demons, if they win against a mid-ranked one in a duel. Which, again, requires a functional physical form.

Decimus: Sloth accepts anyone capable of dreaming. A core cannot dream. It only exists, suspended in time like in amber.

Decimus: Lust only accepts the pretty ones. The physical form needs to meet certain beauty standards.

MC: What about Greed?

Decimus: Greed accepts all those in whom the Avatar sees value.

Decimus: However...

Decimus: I've heard that the current Avatar of Greed hasn't accepted anyone ever since he's been born into the Devildom. He doesn't seem interested in expanding his power and influence.

MC: I'll ask him if he'd accept this core anyway.

Decimus: Will you?

MC: Yeah. I'll send him a message.

Decimus: Are you sure?

MC: ...What do you mean?

Decimus: I noticed that you avoid contacting the seven Avatars unless absolutely necessary.

MC: ...

Decimus: Even if there is an emergency, you merely send a short text.

Decimus: The only one who you seem to talk to regularly is Asmodeus, but even with him it's limited to a brief exchange.

Decimus: And no matter what happens, you don't talk to Lucifer.

Decimus: At least, not directly.

Of course he would notice. After all, he is in a similar situation.

MC: It's easy to talk to Asmo.

MC: He is unlikely to call me Lilith, or even an angel.

When they do something like that, I just disappear and leave my shadow clone behind to take my place. I have many things to do outside of the House of Lamentation, anyway. In other dimensions, in different times and places.

I don't have to pretend to be happy.

MC: Asmo always prattles on about meaningless things. And he prefers to talk about himself.

MC: All I need to do is send an occasional sticker to show I'm listening.

MC: That's why it's so easy to talk to him.

Although, calling it a conversation might be a bit of a stretch.

MC: Still, it's not like I can't send anyone else a simple text.

I take out my D.D.D.

I haven't talked to Mammon directly in what feels like forever. Yes, I've looked at him often, and yes, there's been an occasional haunting or two (or, in Belphie's words, stalking), and maybe a comment or two on the Devilgram. But no actual conversation.

Perhaps, he won't even reply.

I'm almost hoping that he won't. Still, I have to do something about this core that's been entrusted to me.

I take a picture of the core. It's in such a poor state, it looks like a piece of trash rather than a treasure I'd have to convince Mammon it is. Still, he should know exactly what he's getting.

I send the picture to Mammon, followed by a message.

[MC: Do you want a lower demon?]

The reply comes instantly, almost before I even click **send**.

[Mammon: Sure.]

Mammon sends me a link to an app.

MC: (What is this?)

I click the link.

A very fishy-looking app starts downloading. I read the description.

[DevilDealer: Remote recruitment. File your application for one of the Great Seven Domains today and get approved in a short amount of time! Conditions apply. (Read our 1000-pages TOS for hidden fees and conditions).]

MC: ...

Okay, let's just run this app and see what happens.

MC: (click)

I half-expect the app to ask for my credit card number right away. Instead, there is a large button that says "SCAN".

Here goes nothing.

I press the button.

[DevilDealer: Please scan the demon applicant.]

I point my D.D.D at the core.

[DevilDealer: Scanning...scanning...]

[DevilDealer: Scan complete.]

The attributes of Sins appear on the screen, along with the demon's name — Nine.

MC: !

This scammy app looks like the real deal.

[DevilDealer: Please select the domain you're applying for.]

I select Greed from the dropdown list of seven, and click **apply**.

[DevilDealer: Your application has been filed. Please wait for your application to be processed.]

[DevilDealer: Please be advised that the wait time for the Greed domain is between five hundred and five thousands years.]

[DevilDealer: If you'd like to speed up the wait time, you can purchase a speed ticket that will allow your application to be looked at by the Avatar himself in less than a week.]

[DevilDealer: Please be advised that the speed ticket does not guarantee that your application will be approved.]

[DevilDealer: Would you like to make a purchase? Yes/No]

Here it comes...

I click **yes**.

The price shows up.

7,000,000 Grimm.

MC: (Ye gods. Mammon REALLY doesn't want anyone to apply, does he?)

MC: (What a roundabout way of refusing me.)

MC: (...)

MC: (Should I purchase it?)

It's not like I don't have that much.

I enter my account number.

MC: (Looks like everything is in order.)

My finger hovers over the buy button.

[DevilDealer: Congratulations, your application has been approved!]

MC: !

MC: (click)

Oops. I was surprised by the notification and clicked **buy**. My finger slipped.

The payment is completed.

[DevilDealer: Thank you for the purchase!]

[DevilDealer: By the way, all purchases are non-refundable. Which you would know about if you read our 1000-pages TOS.]

But I can't be bothered by the non-refundable purchase, because something more important has drawn my attention.

The core in my hand is changing. It's growing heavier. The fractures are sealing. The outer shell is smoothing out.

At last, the transformation is complete. The core is looking much sturdier now, and it has acquired a healthy golden shine.

[DevilDealer: Don't forget to review our app and leave a five-star review!]

MC: Decimus, look, the core!

I hold the golden core out for his inspection. He nods.

Decimus: Very good. The core has been dedicated to Greed successfully.

MC: What about the attributes?

Both of us lean over the case scroll. The scroll has more information now, and it even listed the recent failed ritual.

[3030 aem, broken moon 13: The Guided Infernal Reconstruction conducted. Result: failure.]

[The core has damage index 89, no reincarnation possible. Returning to Prime is recommended.]

[In defiance of common sense, the recommendation is ignored.]

MC: ...

Decimus: ...

MC: Decimus, it's your scroll. Why is it being so judgemental?

Decimus: It has never done so before.

MC: Is it because you never deviate from its definition of common sense?

MC: Or is it because it knows I'm not you, so it thinks it can bully me?

Decimus: ...I will check the settings of the auto-scribe later.

Undeterred by the settings-checking threat, the writing goes on.

[3030 aem, broken moon 13: The core is successfully dedicated to the domain of Greed.]

[Updating the core's attributes and characteristics.]

The attributes of Sins are changing. Now, the highest Sin is Greed, and all others are much lower. It looks like the sum total of all Sins has also increased.

[The core has damage index 39, reincarnation is possible.]

Decimus: We're going to do a different kind of reincarnation: guided soulcatcher reawakening.

[The Guided Soulcatcher Reawakening is recommended.]

MC: Why that kind?

Decimus: According to our plan, six of the Sins will be destroyed at the very start.

Decimus: When six Sins are gone, all desires are gone. A single Sin cannot carry a personality imprint on its own.

Decimus: When you have no desires, you cannot be reincarnated.

Decimus: That's why we'll have to tempt the demon into having some desires first.

MC: All right, let's do the Soulcatcher ritual.

[In a rare display of sound judgement, the recommendation is accepted.]

MC: You really need to do something about this sassy auto-scribe later.

Decimus: ...I'll make preparations for the ritual.

Decimus gestures at the altar, and the writings around it start to erase, replaced by different ones.

I send a message to Mammon.

[MC: Thank you. You really saved me there.]

[Mammon: No problem.]

[MC: About your fee...]

[Mammon: Never mind the fee.]

[MC: But I already paid it.]

[Mammon: What?]

[Mammon: Wait, WHAT?]

[Mammon: No way. You're joking, right?]

[MC: Why would I be joking? You're the one who sent me the link to that app. I thought you wanted that payment.]

[Mammon: I only sent ya the link to it because that's the only way I know how to recruit remotely!]

[Mammon: Obviously, ya don't have to pay!]

MC: (Since when has it become so obvious?)

[Mammon: D'AAAAH, I just received the payment notification!]

[Mammon: What's goin' to happen to your credit card? Is it goin' to be frozen?]

[MC: I used direct deposit, not a credit card.]

[Mammon: Oh CRAP, my cut of the payment just arrived!]

[Mammon: Why do you have 7,000,000 Grimm?!]

Do I really need to go into details of why?

Let's just say that when you're able to travel across dimensions, it opens some rare smuggling opportunities. Not to mention, there's always gambling, although that works best when I use Mammon's own money for that.

[MC: I don't have it anymore. Now it's yours.]

[Mammon: Hang on I'll refund the fee before DevilDealer takes its cut]

[MC: No need. Just keep the money. Their purchases are non-refundable anyway.]

[Mammon: Well see bout that]

[MC: Why are you so upset about receiving money? This isn't like you.]

[Mammon: tslk later]

Looks like Mammon is using his D.D.D. for talking to DevilDealer.

_ding._

[Asmodeus: What did you do to Mammon?]

[Asmodeus: I can hear screams of horror from his room. It's like a Nether Wasp bit him in the butt.]

[MC: Why do you think it was me?]

[Asmodeus: Lucifer isn't home, and who else could have such an effect on him?]

MC: (snicker)

I have to admit, this is slightly entertaining. I feel an almost irresistible urge to mess with Mammon.

I create a group chat titled "Mammon, you're the best!", and add all demon brothers to it.

[MC: Today, I made a very important deal using the DevilDealer app.]

[MC: It cost me 7,000,000 Grimm, but it was worth it.]

[MC: Mammon, I can't thank you enough for the link and for approving my application so quickly.]

[MC: This matter was very time sensitive and I was almost out of hope, but you really came through for me in my hour of need.]

[MC: I want you to know that I appreciate your timely support. I knew I could trust you.]

[MC: I hope you don't mind if in the future I will keep relying on you.]

Almost immediately, there are reactions in the group.

[Leviathan: DevilDealer is a scam blackmarket app. It's blacklisted in the app store, and you can only download it by clicking a direct link some no-good, scummy scammer sent you. Don't fall for it.]

[Satan: This time, Mammon has outdone himself. Taking advantage of someone at their most vulnerable moment. Despicable.]

[Beelzebub: He went too far.]

[Belphegor: 7,000,000 Grimm? Seriously? Not even a single Grimm discount?]

[Asmodeus: I see. So those were not screams of horror, but of celebration.]

[Lucifer: MAMMON? I'd like to have a little talk with you. NOW.]

[Mammon: I can explain! It's all a misunderstanding!]

[Mammon: At least let me refund the money first!]

[MC: I'm telling you, keep it. You've earned it.]

[Mammon: And I'm tellin' ya, there was never any need to pay! Why did ya even do it?!]

[Mammon: No, no, Lucifer, wait]

[Mammon: asagsf]


	67. The Second Ritual

The preparations for the ritual are complete. This time, there is an additional vial, with a low level of sparkling liquid inside.

Decimus: This gauge indicates the power of desire.

Decimus: It would be ideal to reawaken a desire this demon had during his life. An ambitious desire works best.

Decimus: Even lower demons can have ambitious desires. It could be something simple. For example, taking over the position of the pack leader, or moving to the next evolution stage.

Decimus: Or it could be something more personal and long-term. For example, eating a specific high-ranker, or winning a centennial chasing competition.

Decimus: You already have a connection to this demon, so you'll be the one tempting him.

Decimus: This demon had an ambitious desire during his life. Find it.

Decimus: If you can't find it, tempt him into having new desires. Any little bit helps, no matter how simple or fleeting.

Decimus: If he still wants nothing by the time all the sand runs out, I'm going to have a hard time tethering him.

Decimus: I'm counting on you.

MC: Leave it to me!

Decimus: Have you done any tempting before?

MC: Of — of course I have.

Decimus: ...

I do my best to look confident. I don't want him to be worried about this and getting distracted during the ritual. And I did try to tempt Luke and Solomon before. Although that didn't work out very well...

Decimus: How did your previous temptations work out?

MC: In the end, I got what I wanted.

Although probably not because of my temptation efforts.

Decimus: Your ability to evade the truth is as excellent as before.

MC: Ahaha...

Decimus: But your confidence is reassuring.

MC: If you can give me some pointers, I won't turn them down.

Decimus: I can only give you a few general guidelines.

Decimus: Get his attention. Make sure he looks at you and listens to your voice.

Decimus: Start with simple baits, and as he becomes more aware, proceed to more complex ones.

Decimus: Other than that, it's up to your own skill.

Decimus: Let's begin.

With a flare of sapphire flame, the ritual begins again. But this time, everything is different.

The air radiating from the altar is even more oppressive than before. And all around us, I can hear a distant chorus singing, a repeated chant about bonds that even death cannot break, a baneful refrain about eternal chains.

The hourglass turns, as Decimus' threads tighten around the core.

A shock runs through the Sins, and at once, all Sins but Greed are extinguished.

All liquid evaporates from the vial of desire. Now it's empty.

The core shudders but doesn't crack, its golden surface remaining smooth and solid. The altar shakes and hums, but the sound is almost drowned out by the baneful chorus.

A dark shape is forming on the altar — a demi-human shape.

It's Nine again, but he looks different. He is almost human, except that he has wolf ears and a scaly tail.

Nine opens his empty eyes.

This time, he doesn't struggle at all. He just stands there, still and indifferent, his blank gaze directed at nothing.

MC: Hey, Nine.

His ears twitch. Slowly, he raises his head and shifts it from side to side, as though trying to pinpoint the direction of my voice.

MC: I'm here, Nine. Look at me.

His gaze focuses on me. His lips part slowly.

Nine: It's you again.

MC: !

Decimus: Very good. He recognized you. More, keep talking to him.

MC: What is your desire?

Nine: I want nothing.

Nine: I am nothing. I have nothing.

MC: You have a beautiful black-and-white pattern on your back.

Nine blinks.

MC: Last time, I didn't get a chance to touch your tail. I wonder how its scales would feel.

MC: Want me to pet you again?

His ears twitch again. His head jerks. I'm not sure if it's a nod or a shake.

MC: It's too bad you're incorporeal. If you had a physical shape, I'd pet you any time you'd be careless enough to come within a touching distance.

There is a sound of bells. The vial of desire starts filling back slowly, stopping after a bit.

Decimus: Just like that. Keep it up. Hold his attention.

I can't tell whether Nine wants to be petted, or to stop me from petting him (which is more likely), but either way works.

I should do something else to annoy him. Even a desire to get rid of an irritant is still a desire.

MC: Check this out.

I take out a Raven and tickle Nine's incorporeal nose.

Nine: (sneeze)

Nine: Don't. Not...my nose again.

MC: (tickle, tickle)

Nine: (sneeze, sneeze!)

Nine wrinkles his nose. His eyes focus on the Raven.

Nine: F-feather.

MC: Want it?

I swing the feather slowly back and forth in front of his face. His eyes are following it, more or less accurately. Haltingly, he raises his clawed hand and attempts to swat at the feather, missing by a wide margin.

After flaunting the feather in front of him, I put it in my hair. He stares at it.

Nine: Give.

MC: Come and get it.

Nine twitches in place, but his body is still too formless.

I hear bells again. The liquid in the vial increases significantly. The chorus chants about Greed and all its baits.

Decimus: ...

Nine's gaze changes. He seems more aware now. He might be up for more complex things.

I decide to try out what I've seen in his memories.

MC: Nine, do you remember Swoop?

Nine: ...Commander.

MC: Want to know what happened to him?

Nine: I remember wanting to know.

MC: I'll tell you what happened to him if you reincarnate.

Through the sound of bells, I can hear Decimus' voice.

Decimus: Warmer. You're getting closer to his heart's desire.

Nine is staring at me now with sharp focus.

Nine: Commander said, we will reincarnate.

Nine: But lower demons don't reincarnate. Everyone knows it.

Nine: Once we're gone, we're gone.

MC: Even if your Commander lied to you, he wasn't wrong.

Nine: !

MC: You're going to see the moon again. And other demons will hear your voice.

The vial of desire is halfway full. The sound of bells has become a part of the baneful chant. The chorus is singing about the promises that are like chains.

Decimus: Excellent. You almost have him. Keep reeling him in.

Nine is looking directly into my eyes, his gaze burning with dark intensity.

Nine: Even if I return, there is nothing for me here.

Decimus: !

Nine: I was recruited to fight for the Source of Aspire. But I can no longer fight in that battle.

Nine: The Prince of Lies was the general of our army. He never loses. I knew we were going to win.

Decimus: ...

Nine: I wanted to keep fighting until the day we won.

Nine: And once we won, I wanted to stand next to the Source of Aspire and sing about our victory.

MC: !

So this was his ambitious desire. I have found it.

Decimus: ...This desire can no longer be fulfilled.

Decimus: Due to the King's interference and a tremendous death toll on both sides, as well as a severe landscape damage to the site, the Battle of Aspire was declared a mutual loss.

Nine: I was proud of my voice, but even that failed me. I couldn't mock the fleeing angels.

Decimus: Everyone believed that the Source was lost. The site was abandoned.

Nine: It's been centuries. The battle is long over. Now, I am buried with the past. 

Decimus: The Source of Aspire doesn't even officially belong to the Devildom — it's just that with me here, there's nobody willing to challenge me.

Nine: Someone like me can only scout and fight. I can do nothing else. There is nothing else.

The sand in the hourglass has almost run out.

MC: There is something else.

MC: Do you want to help build the city of Aspire?

Decimus and Nine: !!

MC: And once the city of Aspire is built, do you want to stand at its gates and sing about its grand opening, until your voice reaches all demons?

Nine: ...

Decimus: I...

Nine: I want...

Nine's lips are moving, but I can't hear the words. I hear only the deep tolling bells, mixed with chant about a soul entrapped for eternity. The floor reverberates with the power of that sound. The vial of desire fills to the brim.

A flash of dark light blots out my vision.

...

My sight returns.

I can see Nine, in his true lower form, completely corporeal, curled up upon the altar.

The chorus is silent.

MC: Did it work?

Decimus is staring at me in silence.

MC: Decimus?

Decimus: ...Yes?

MC: Are you all right?

Decimus: Yes. Of course.

MC: ...Why don't you take a seat in that armchair over there?

Decimus allows himself to be guided over to the armchair, and he slumps heavily in it.

He seems to be in shock. I wonder if he's exhausted. Should I get him a glass of water?

Maybe there's something to drink in that cabinet.

I open the cabinet to find several expensive-looking bottles. Is this alcohol?

I read the labels. Illumine, Sancard, Arden... Nothing that I recognize.

I pour Decimus a glass of Arden. Without even looking, he downs it at once. Some color returns to his face.

MC: Are you feeling better?

Decimus: Mm.

MC: Next time, let's not do two rituals in a row without a break.

Decimus: Are you worried about me?

MC: ...Should I not be?

Decimus: I've told you before. Connected to the Source, I'm not in danger of any physical or metaphysical damage.

Then what about emotional damage? I already figured out that his emotions are the biggest danger to him.

MC: Do you think it worked?

Decimus: The ritual?

For some reason, he is hesitant to reply. Even though last time, he knew it was a failure in an instant.

Both of us turn to look at Nine, curled up upon the altar.

MC: He looks...solid.

Decimus: Mm.

MC: Shall we check on him?

Decimus: Let's.

He raises from the armchair, and we approach Nine.

Up close, it becomes obvious that Nine is asleep. His chest is moving as he's breathing. His tail twitches in his sleep.

Decimus examines Nine for several long moments.

Decimus: I think...it was a success.

MC: That's great.

Decimus: This is the first time it happened.

Decimus: I didn't truly believe it was possible.

MC: Did the scroll document it all properly?

Decimus unfolds the scroll.

[3030 aem, broken moon 13: The Guided Soulcatcher Reawakening conducted. Result: success.]

[3030 aem, broken moon 13, 11:11am: In defiance of his fate and all statistical data, the entity, Nine, lower demon scout, is reincarnated with his memories and abilities intact.]

[The core has final damage index 0. The entity is returned back to the starting point.]

[This is the first documented case of a successful guided reincarnation of a lower demon with a core damage index above 70.]

[Due to the rarity of event, the case is copied over to the royal archive.]

[The funeral case is closed.]

MC: No snide remarks?

The scroll folds itself.

Decimus: Place it on the shelf of complete cases.

I locate a bookshelf that is only partially filled, and place the scroll neatly next to the others.

MC: Why is Nine in his wolf form again? He was a demi-human before.

Decimus: A demi-human form is too much for a lower demon. I forced it upon him, to improve your chances of a successful temptation. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to talk.

Decimus: He should be able to move after a short nap. A ritual is exhausting.

MC: I'm going to take his picture.

I snap a picture of sleeping Nine, and send it to Mammon.

[MC: Behold, your newest recruit.]

Not sure if Mammon has the spare energy to care about a lower demon. He might be too busy with other things right now (heh). I just feel that he deserves to be informed of the outcome.

But just as before, a reply comes instantly.

[Mammon: Put him on the D.D.D.]

Who, Nine?

Before I can ask the question, Mammon is already calling. Bewildered, I answer the call and bring my D.D.D. closer to Nine's ear.

[Mammon: YO, NINE!]

Unholy deities, I can hear Mammon's shouting even from an arm's distance.

Nine's ears prick up. He wakes up with a start, his eyes unfocused.

[Mammon: I HAVE ORDERS FOR YA, RECRUIT!]

Nine: Oou?

Poor Nine, he sounds so confused.

[Mammon: YOU'VE GOT TO PROTECT THIS HUMAN HERE, YA HEAR ME?]

He can hear you, Mammon. Everyone on this side of the Devildom can hear you.

Nine glances at me, then cautiously shifts his eyes towards Decimus, who is watching him impassively.

Nine: Oou, ooorou. Grrawao!

[Mammon: GOOD! SOUNDS LIKE YA EAGER TO DO IT!]

No, I think Nine is trying to explain to you that he's only a lower demon. And the only real danger around here is Decimus, who also happens to be an archdemon, and also the one who brought him back to life. There's nothing Nine can do about someone who outranks him so drastically.

Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place right from the start.

[Mammon: NO MORE SLEEPIN' ON THE JOB, YA GOT ME?]

Nine: Orrm...

He's only just reincarnated. Give him a break.

[Mammon: DON'T DISAPPOINT ME, RECRUIT! I EXPECT DAILY REPORTS!]

Nine: Awarraow?

...Mammon, how is he going to report to you? He can't speak, he can't type, and he doesn't even have a D.D.D. Do you expect him to run between the Valley of Ruin and the House of Lamentation every day on foot?

Mammon hangs up. Nine is left sitting here, dazed.

Decimus: Go back to sleep.

As though pressed down by an overwhelming force, Nine lies flat upon the altar, and a second later, he's dozing off again.

I was overthinking this. There's no possibility of conflicting interests. The gap in ranks is just too great. 

MC: What do you say we take a break for brunch?

MC: I know tons of Devildom recipes. I'll make you something. What do you like to eat?

_ding._

It's a message from Mammon.

[Mammon: If you have more lower demons, I'll take them all off your hands.]

MC: !


	68. The Royal Correspondence

I show the message to Decimus, who raises his eyebrows.

Decimus: Greed thinks on his feet.

Decimus: He's trying to steal my army from me, then potentially turn it against me, right within my domain. This requires guts.

Decimus: He's already managed to install a single lower demon agent on my territory. It might not look like much, but it's more than anyone else has ever achieved.

Decimus: He lacks subtlety, but not resourcefulness. The ability to act decisively while possessing limited information is a valuable trait in a demon.

Decimus: This goes to show that you can't always trust second-handed information about former angels.

MC: (He's praising Mammon. He didn't seem impressed with Council members before. His opinion has changed.)

Decimus: Besides...

Decimus: This is a very good offer.

MC: Do you think...?

Decimus: Yes...

MC: What we've done for Nine, could we do the same for the other lower cores?

Decimus: Perhaps. Or perhaps there's an even more efficient way.

Decimus: Greed's offer does open new... ventures.

Decimus: If he wants to negotiate with me, let him go through the official channels.

Decimus: Tell him to write a letter to the King, requesting a meeting with me.

Decimus: If the King approves, then I have no objections either.

I try to imagine Mammon writing a letter to the King.

MC: (Gah...)

I don't think he could manage to write a proper letter even to Lucifer.

Time for indirect methods.

I message in the group chat titled "Mammon, you're the best!".

[MC: Mammon, I told Decimus about your offer. He's very impressed by it.]

[MC: Decimus praised your guts and ingenuity, and spoke highly of your abilities as a demon.]

[MC: He is willing to meet with you and discuss the deal.]

[MC: But you still have to go through the official channels first.]

[MC: Write a letter to the Demon King, requesting a meeting with Decimus for the purpose of negotiation over the transfer of ownership of lower demons.]

Right away, there is a reply.

[Satan: Don't even think of writing that letter, Mammon.]

[Satan: You don't even know the traditional Gothic script.]

[Satan: I'm coming over to your room right now, and I'm going to write that letter after you give me all the details of your deal.]

[Mammon: Sure.]

[Lucifer: Nobody does anything.]

[Lucifer: Do you think this is a joking matter?]

[Lucifer: Satan, your Gothic is fine, but you always add death threats and curses to your letters.]

[Satan: Only to the letters addressed to you! My other letters are fine.]

[Satan: I will take this matter very seriously.]

[Lucifer: No argument.]

[Lucifer: I'm going to draft that letter myself.]

[Lucifer: Satan, you can rewrite the draft in Gothic after I'm done.]

[Lucifer: Mammon. You're going to tell me everything you know about that deal.]

[Mammon: Sure.]

[Diavolo: Wait a second.]

MC: !

Why is Diavolo in this chat? I never added him!

I suspected this for a while, but it looks like he's got the same spying function as I do...

[Diavolo: I can't believe this.]

[Diavolo: A meeting with Decimus. For the purpose of negotiation?]

[Diavolo: And the one invited is Mammon, and not me?]

[Diavolo: Does this make sense to anyone?]

[Diavolo: I can't accept this.]

[MC: Diavolo...]

[Diavolo: I want to have a meeting with Decimus too!]

[MC: I know.]

[Diavolo: If you know then promise me right now that I'm going to have a meeting with Decimus in three days hence or else NO letters are going to reach the Demon King]

[Diavolo: EVER]

[Diavolo: AGAIN!]

UGH.

There is nothing else for it.

[MC: I promise.]

[Diavolo: Wonderful.]

[Diavolo: I can't wait for the meeting!]

MC: ...

I've been steamrolled by Diavolo. Again. I just can't hold my own against him, whether he's in his true form or not. And the worst part is, I don't even feel bad about this.

I don't know why I find him, of all demons, so difficult to deal with. Maybe I should ask Luke for advice again.

**Caw. Caw!**

Hm? Where's the cawing coming from?

I look around. A large, self-important crow is sitting outside the window.

Decimus: A messenger from the King.

The window to the laboratory opens, and the crow flies in. It bypasses Decimus and makes a circle over my head.

Crow: Caw. A letter for the human representative.

A thick, heavy scroll falls upon my head. I catch it automatically.

Crow: Good reflexes. Caw.

The crow leaves through the open window. The scroll in my hands, I glance at Decimus. He has a small, almost imperceptible smile on his lips.

MC: Do you already know what it's about?

Decimus: Perhaps.

Decimus: Open it.

I break the heavy seal and start unfolding the scroll.

MC: I wonder if the King wants a rematch. Could it be that he's annoyed about losing against me the last time?

Decimus: ...Of course not. This is not a challenge letter.

Decimus: And why do you sound so hopeful?

Do I? I thought I sounded apprehensive.

Decimus: If you're feeling restless, I don't mind going another round with you.

MC: ...Maybe later. I am fine, for now.

I still need to arrange that meeting with Diavolo in three days, not to mention prepare for the apprenticeship ceremony. I can't become indisposed now.

I read the King's message.

The message informs me, in Gothic script, that the Celestial Realm paid the Devildom for the stress-testing of the Scales of Judgement, and my share of the profit is included.

MC: They actually paid us for breaking it...?

I have no idea how the King accomplished this feat. His negotiation skills must be formidable.

MC: But what does he mean by my share?

Decimus: Unfold the scroll completely.

I unfold it. Below the message, I find attached a black card with golden letters. The moment I touch it, the card flashes briefly.

Oh, I actually know what this is. I used those cards myself before. They're used to transfer a large amount of cash for major deals.

I detach it and scan it with my D.D.D. The card's amount comes up.

MC: ...

HOW many zeroes?

MC: Is there some mistake...?

Decimus: There is no mistake.

Decimus: Don't you remember saying that you wanted to take responsibility for the destruction of the Scales?

MC: Yes, but by responsibility, I meant I'd take the punishment. Why is there an ocean of Grimm instead?

Decimus: This is how shared responsibility works in the Devildom.

Decimus: If there's a punishment, you get half of it. And if there's a reward, you also get half.

MC: ...

MC: Is this really okay?

Decimus: Certainly.

Decimus: I think the King feels bad about involving you in the fourth round. Let him do this for you.

He feels bad, huh? I, on the other hand, feel very satisfied about how that round played out.

Decimus: You're smirking.

Hurriedly, I wipe my smirk away.

At the very bottom of the scroll, I find a single line written in conversational Latin, in a twisted long-tailed handwriting.

_We want to see if you'd be able to spend at least one tenth of it during your lifetime, human._

Heh. So Abaddon sent it to me because he thinks I won't be able to spend it?

So this is a challenge letter, after all.

I am probably smirking again.

Who do you take me for? I am someone who can spend 7,000,000 Grimm in a single misclick of a finger. As for this amount, no matter how immense it is, watch me spend it all in the span of three days.

MC: Well, I won't turn down a little extra money. Personally, I'm always short on cash.

I pocket the black card.

**Caw, caw!**

Another crow is here. It looks like we have another letter.


	69. A Mysterious List

The second letter turns out to be for Decimus. He unfolds it and reads it.

MC: (I wonder what the King says.)

Decimus: Would you like to read it?

MC: !

Decimus passes the scroll to me.

In the first half of the letter, the King mentions the recently reincarnated lower demon, Nine, whose case he's just read in the royal archive. You can tell the King is excited about the prospects, even though he talks mostly about how Decimus' skills have become even more admirable, and how Decimus should take care not to overwork himself.

In the second half of the letter, the King praises Decimus at length for becoming more sociable, and encourages him to make more connections with other entities, regardless of their origin and social status, and also regardless of the consequences, including but not limited to: local disputes, civil war, inter-realm war, inter-dimensional war, and planar destruction.

MC: ...

I know Luke said that the King dotes on Decimus, but I think it was a bit of an **understatement**.

At the very end of the letter, the King grants Decimus permission to meet with Avatar of Greed, and the meeting is scheduled for 3030 aem, broken moon 13, 15:00pm, which is only a few hours from now.

MC: So he agreed.

In the P.S., the King hints at how he'd like to visit Decimus himself in the immediate future.

Having finished reading, I return the letter to Decimus.

MC: So the meeting is happening?

Decimus: It's happening.

I call Mammon. He picks up on the first ring.

[MC: It's a go. The King agreed, and Decimus will meet you.]

[Mammon: I know, I'm readin' a letter from the King right now!]

[MC: We expect you here at 15:00pm today. I know it's a short notice, but the King decided the time. Cancel your other plans, and don't be late.]

[Mammon: I know, I know!]

There is a sound of a crash, and an exclamation from Mammon. The call cuts off.

_ding._

[Mammon: Sorry about that, fell out of the window.]

MC: ...

Is he going to be okay?

Decimus: I suppose we should make some preparations.

Decimus' idea of preparations turns out to be a grand garden with a round negotiation table in the middle of it. He creates the whole thing in less than twenty minutes, declares it done, and shifts his attention to something else.

He is pacing across the flower field methodically, apparently measuring the ground with his paces. Every thirty steps or so, he stops and stares down, as though trying to pierce the bedrock with his gaze.

I can tell he's thinking of something by the way the sapphire flames are dancing erratically across his arms. He seems to be considering and discarding ideas. He probably has an idea for some major project.

I better not disturb him.

In case the negotiations last longer than a few minutes, I prepare a lunch basket with snacks. There are cookies still left from the batch Luke made. Cookies can only make everything better.

Upon some reflection, I add several bottles of Arden to the basket (Decimus seemed to have a good reaction to Arden), then hide the basket under the negotiation table.

I return to the laboratory to check on Nine. It turns out that Nine is still sleeping. He looks really peaceful while he's dozing, too. It's reassuring to see him alive.

I look at the archive shelves.

Hmm. There is nothing in the laboratory that prevents me from looking at whatever I want, and touching whatever I want. That's a little unsettling.

At the same time, it doesn't feel bad. It's unusual.

Out of curiosity, I flip through several grimoires.

There are frequent references to Decimus. Before the battle of Aspire, he is referred to almost exclusively as "the Prince of Lies," or simply as "the Prince." I'm starting to see why he had no need for a name until recently. "The Prince" was practically his name.

He was the only prince at the time, and from what I gather, he was expected to always be the only one. Even his signet was a stylized "P. L." He changed his identities often, but the signet and the title remained the same.

All of that disappears at once after a certain point. I'm guessing that's when the Royal Decree of Silence came into effect.

When I take a break from browsing the archive, Nine is still asleep. Outside, Decimus has taken out a gigantic primometer (I've seen that thing all the time at the Gorge of Carnage terraforming), and from what I can tell, he's mapping out the landscape.

I still have some time before the meeting. I return to my room.

I'm going to take a look at the scroll Solomon gave me. I wonder what items he listed as his preferred gifts?

MC: ...

MC: ...

MC: ???

Other than the mirage flower, I can't recognize a single item on this list. Moreover, all of them are a little...strange.

For example, this: "The first morning dew of Smelter Mountain."

I know Smelter Mountain. You can fry eggs on its rocks even in the middle of the night, during the coldest season. No dew is possible; it would evaporate before even condensing.

Or this: "The yellow frog from Barren Swamp."

Barren Swamp is infamous for being the most lifeless location ever known. It's an inter-dimensional zone that spans multiple realities. And as far as I can tell, nothing lives there. I passed through there a couple of times, and I've never heard a single sound, certainly not frogs.

Those potential gifts are...

Rather than **strange** , maybe I should say **impossible**.

Solomon said, "I don't want to make things too hard for you." He said, I only need to bring a single item from this list. Just bringing the mirage flower should be fine.

Right?

MC: ...

I have a bad feeling about this.

Just how pissed off is Solomon about what happened with the mirage flower?

Surely, he wouldn't rescind our agreement of apprenticeship over this...?

MC: ...

He's been reluctant from the start. It wouldn't be strange if he changed his mind now. Maybe he woke up to the fact that he's getting nothing useful out of this deal.

If he had such thoughts, he would've said something. Right?

MC: ...

Actually...sometimes, he can be a little... I don't want to say **passive-aggressive** , but...

Suffice to say, talking to him would not yield any results, and can only make matters worse. You just need to figure stuff out, and then you need to do something about it. He can be even more evasive than I am.

And besides...I don't want to call and ask him directly, because I'm afraid he'd confirm my suspicions.

I'm already very lucky that he even bothered to give me this list. I'm pretty sure there is some double meaning to it. A hidden layer...

Are there any hidden instructions on the scroll?

I raise it and look at it through the light. Nothing.

Maybe it's a puzzle?

I'm bad at puzzles. But Solomon knows that. If there's something, I'm sure it's simple enough that I can figure it out...

The alarm on my D.D.D. goes off.

It's almost time for our meeting with Mammon.


	70. The Golden Afternoon

I wait for Mammon at the gates. I don't really want to meet him alone, but I don't want to leave him on his own either.

Mammon is really taking his time. It's almost the appointed hour. Don't tell me he's not going to show up?

At three minutes to 15:00pm, the carriage finally arrives, pulled by lower demons.

Mammon steps out of the carriage. His gaze lands on me.

Mammon: Yo.

MC: Are you alone?

Mammon: ...Yeah.

MC: No Diavolo? No Barbatos either?

Mammon: Uh, no.

I reach out and grab his hand.

Mammon: !

MC: Get in, quickly.

I yank him in through the gates. The moment we're through, I use the Impersonator talisman to seal the gates shut back again with a mental command.

Mammon: Wow, sunlight!

Yes, Decimus is even able to create an accurate imitation of the sun. I don't know if he did it for my sake, or to intimidate Mammon, but the golden sunlight is streaming through the branches of the tall trees in the grand garden, creating a full impression of an early summer.

I release Mammon's hand.

MC: This way.

Mammon: Wait...!

My pace is so fast that he is forced to jog to keep up.

Mammon: Wait a bit. Ya don't have to run...!

I'm not running, this is simply a brisk walk.

Mammon: Slow down, will ya?!

MC: We're going to be late. Hurry up.

Past the alcove, through the blooming orchard, all the trees are blending together in a blur, through the arch covered in vines, we emerge into the opening, where Decimus awaits at the round table.

MC: Mammon is here.

Decimus: Right on time.

Mammon: ?!

MC: !

Decimus is looking at Mammon, and Mammon is gaping at him.

Decimus looks exactly like me.

His face, his outfit, even his gestures and expressions, everything copies mine to the exact, minute detail.

Mammon's eyes dart between Decimus and me. He can't tell which one of us is which.

I have to suppress a laugh at the expression on Mammon's face.

Abruptly, I feel all tension leave me.

It's like I'm here and not here at the same time. There is another layer of identity that protects mine. I am here, but wearing a mask.

Or rather than a mask, it's more like an adamantine armor.

MC: Why don't we take a seat?

Mammon: S-sure.

The three of us are seated at the table. Mammon is visibly trying to regain his composure. It's obvious he wasn't prepared for this. Anyone would find this situation surreal.

I take this opportunity to examine him.

Mammon looks the same as usual, but his outfit is rather ostentatious. And some of those rings I've never seen before. Could it be that he was nearly late for the meeting because he was taking his time dressing up?

Before long, Mammon recollects himself.

Mammon: I've heard you've got some lower cores up for grabs. I'll give ya a very good price for those.

MC: How many cores do you want?

Mammon: All of 'em.

Decimus: We have hundreds of lower cores, in a half-broken condition.

Mammon: I'll take 'em all.

Decimus: What are you going to do with them?

Mammon: I was thinkin' of puttin' together a little **private force**.

MC: Why do you suddenly want to have an army?

Mammon: Just in case.

Mammon: I'm not plannin' to use it for anythin' right away.

Mammon: Everybody else has a private force. Even Belphie has sleeper agents everywhere.

Mammon: Lucifer has been on my case about expandin' my power and influence, and I'm startin' to think he's been right about that all along.

Decimus: We won't charge you for the transfer of ownership. They're only broken lower cores.

MC: They do have the potential of growing into nice lower demons. Maybe they'll even retain their battle experience and training from the Time of Chaos.

Decimus: Lower demons who had real battle experience would evolve much faster than usual. They're more likely to have valuable skills, too.

MC: It's a good deal for you, getting them all free of charge.

Mammon: Then —!

Decimus: However.

Decimus: The demons from the Time of Chaos are different from others. They've been trained to respect authority and obey their superiors. They require structure and order in their lives.

MC: You'll have to keep an eye on them and give them guidance.

Decimus: Lower demons are mostly self-sufficient, but there will still be expenditures.

MC: Especially if you're planning to take care of them.

Decimus: You would have to spend money on helping them with their evolution, improving their nutrition, or treating their wounds.

Decimus: In addition, there might be issues with those whose core damage index is too high.

Decimus: You would have to spend resources on their recovery.

MC: They will need a safe place to sleep, at least in the beginning.

Decimus: Some other facilities might be necessary as well.

Mammon keeps glancing between Decimus and me. I can tell he's still trying to figure out which one of these two identical humans is the real one.

MC: Keeping your own private army is a big responsibility.

Decimus: We have our doubts that you're ready for it.

Decimus: Not to mention, can you truly afford it for an extended period of time?

MC: You're deeply and permanently in debt, aren't you?

Decimus: Are you truly prepared to be responsible for anyone but yourself?

MC: If you're going to claim them, only to abandon them later —

Decimus: — it would be better to return them all to Prime.

Mammon seems dazed. But he rallies quickly enough.

Mammon: Money won't be an issue, at least at first.

Mammon: Recently, I've made a very lucrative deal.

Decimus: You're referring to that auction where you sold the broken sword of light from the Scales of Judgement back to the Celestial Realm?

Mammon: That's the one.

Mammon: The Demon King really drove the price sky-high before he finally yielded the sword to the Celestial competitors.

Mammon: It brought me a crazy amount of cash.

Mammon: That should be enough for a start-up. Once the initial amount runs out, I'll come up with somethin' else.

Mammon: And also...

Mammon: I know I don't have much history of recruitment, but I recently brought in three demons, and they're doin' quite well for themselves.

That's news to me. And apparently, to Decimus too.

MC: Oh?

Decimus: Who are they?

Mammon: They're the ones who found the sword of light. After I auctioned off the sword, I gave 'em a percentage cut of the deal.

Mammon: They're havin' a grand time in the human realm right now.

Mammon: Here, would you like to see?

Mammon clicks something on his D.D.D. and turns the screen around for us to see.

A video starts playing. Apparently, it's a live stream from a security camera.

This seems to be a casino. Instantly, I spot three demons in their human forms, very carelessly disguised, playing a game of cards. A group of humans are flocking to them, watching the game and listening to the demons with interest.

A bejeweled demon with two giggling witches clinging to him is speaking.

"And then I told him, you gotta chase that gold coin, even if it falls into a ravine..."

A sunburnt demon sitting opposite him responds without looking up from his cards.

"No, that's definitely not what happened. You were the one who tossed that coin there, remember?"

The third demon, with his hair painted bright yellow, and wearing a t-shirt with a print that says "I am NECROMANCER!" suddenly looks directly into the camera.

"Why are there cameras here?"

"This is a casino, there are security cameras everywhere."

"It's filming us specifically. Look, it turns to keep us in focus."

"You're paranoid. It's all because of your previous job as an overseer."

"I just pay attention to details. This could be used for cheating. Someone could be recording our gambling habits. You can never be too careful."

The "necromancer" points his finger at the camera. The live stream cuts off.

Mammon clears his throat.

Mammon: Too smart for their own good, the lot of 'em.

Mammon pockets his D.D.D.

Mammon: Well, ya get the idea.

Mammon: Those who follow me will be richly rewarded.

Decimus: I see you're committed to this.

MC: The important thing is that you've made up your mind.

Decimus: If that's the case, I have an offer for you.

Decimus: Why don't we form an alliance?

MC: !

Mammon: ...What sort of alliance?

Decimus: A military one.

Decimus is smiling. He's using my face, and that friendly smile of mine really looks shady. No wonder others often comment on it.

Decimus: If something happens, you'll join the fight on my side. But the opposite is true as well.

Decimus: You'll be able to call upon me.

Decimus: As part of our agreement, we'll divide this future military force equally between us, and share the entire combined army.

Decimus: This agreement includes all the lower demons buried here whose cores are yet to be reincarnated.

Decimus: You'll claim the cores, and I'll cultivate them here. I will cover the healing, housing, and feeding costs.

Decimus: I can bring those demons back, but I require your cooperation for it.

Decimus: What do you say?

Mammon takes 1.3 seconds to consider this offer.

Mammon: All right, deal.

Mammon reaches his hand out for a handshake, and Decimus grasps his hand.

A moment passes. Nothing seems to be happening.

Then Decimus turns his head to look at me.

Decimus: What are you waiting for?

MC: ?

Decimus: You have to join this alliance too.

Mammon: !

Mammon: Yeah. Without ya, this deal is a no-go.

MC: ...

Well, I don't know how much military might I'd be able to bring to the table, but sure, why not.

I reach out, joining my hand with the two of them.

Decimus: Let this alliance be formed, with the Source of Aspire as a guarantee, and all the dead present here as witness.

Decimus: The three of us will fight on the same side, from now and for the rest of eternity.

For a brief second, I catch a glimpse of intangible chains, wrapped around our hands. A whisper runs through the garden, and a shadow is cast over us, dimming the golden sunlight.

Then Decimus removes his hand, and the illusion is broken.

Decimus: Now that we've got the formalities out of the way, let's talk business.


	71. Investing Into Real Estate

Decimus: The cores are still buried here, but there is a way we could extract them all at once.

Decimus: This is a method unique to the domain of Greed.

Decimus: I suggest you **consecrate** the whole ground here, and claim all the buried cores as your **treasure**.

Decimus: This way, all the cores will be transported into your vault.

Decimus: Meanwhile, I'm going to build the Pool of Fortune. All extracted cores will be submerged in there, and they will gradually absorb the Prime from the pool over time.

Decimus: After becoming saturated, the cores will naturally gravitate towards reincarnation.

Decimus: This way, we can automate the whole process, and perform the funeral rites en masse, greatly speeding up the reincarnation process.

Mammon: I, uh...dunno how to do any of that.

Decimus: That won't be a problem. I'll give you detailed instructions.

MC: You just need to do what Decimus tells you to. You'll be fine.

Mammon: ...Sure.

Decimus: For the consecration, you're going to need a lot of gemstones. Green or yellow beryls work best. You'll have to purchase them in bulk. Here's the amount.

Mammon: ?!

Decimus: I hope you have enough funds to buy them. The ones I have are not enough for a large-scale project like that.

MC: Since I have a share in this army, I'll chip in with some cash.

I take out the black card.

Mammon: ??

Decimus: ...Are you sure about that?

MC: Of course. This is the King's money, anyway.

Decimus: Not anymore. Now it's yours.

MC: I didn't really do anything to earn it. The King is the one who went through all the trouble of extorting it.

Decimus: ...

MC: The Devildom's money should be invested back into the Devildom. It's only fair.

MC: I can't think of a better way to spend it, anyway.

Decimus: As you wish. But you don't need to spend the entire card. Even half of it would be more than enough.

MC: All right.

I snap the card in half. It glows briefly, and the numbers "50%" appear on each half.

Nice, I managed to snap it precisely. It does require a bit of skill, but I've had some practice with the cards I've used on the black market.

I pocket one half, and offer the other half to Mammon.

MC: This money must be spent on the lower demons from the Aspire domain only.

MC: It can't be spent on anything else.

MC: Take it.

After a moment of hesitation, Mammon takes it. The half-card flashes as it changes hands.

MC: You know the drill. Eat it.

Mammon stares at the card in his hand. He swallows.

Mammon: Is this really necessary?

Decimus: Of course it is.

Decimus: How else are we going to ensure that you won't misappropriate it?

MC: I don't want to see my hard-robbed money spent on random witches.

Mammon: ...

MC: I'm an investor, not your sponsor. Pay for your little hobbies out of your own pocket, not mine.

Mammon looks about to say something, then thinks better of it.

Decimus: Eat it.

MC: Eat it!

Mammon: Ugh...

Abruptly, Mammon shoves the half-card into his mouth and starts chewing on it quickly, then swallows in a hurry. He grimaces and shudders.

Mammon: Yuech!

Decimus: There, it wasn't so hard, was it?

Now, Mammon won't be able to spend this money on anything except helping the lower demons from the Aspire domain. Should he try to break that promise, it will burn him from the inside, giving him a severe indigestion.

Mammon takes out his D.D.D. and scans himself. Clearly, he wants to see how much cash is on that half-card he's eaten.

Mammon: ?!

Mammon: HOW many zeroes?

Mammon presses his hand to his stomach. Maybe he's feeling queasy about having just turned into a walking, breathing treasury. Or maybe he's tormented by the thoughts of all that money he has but can't spend on his witches and his other vices of choice.

Heh.

MC: Here, I'll pour you a drink to wash that down.

I reach under the table and take out the basket, then pull a bottle out of it, with a label that says "Arden (A.B.)"

Decimus: Oh, this...

Mammon: Wow, angel's blood!

* * *

Meanwhile, in the Celestial Realm, in Michael's office...

Simeon is reporting to Michael.

Michael: Skip the pleasantries. Where are my wings?

Simeon holds out a golden orb.

Simeon: Decimus has —

Before Simeon can finish, Michael takes the orb and breaks it in his hand, invoking his wings.

During the next few seconds, Michael gives his wings a few trial flaps, causing a great disturbance in the office and sending papers flying everywhere, and then he half-folds his wings, hovering a few inches above the floor.

Michael: Not bad, the horizontal thrust has really improved. The hovering is now in fully passive mode, and the power efficiency is better.

Michael: It's annoying having to adjust to finer controls, but now I'll be able to channel all the power into pure destruction.

Michael: Any other changes?

Simeon: Only aesthetical.

Michael: **Aesthetical**?

His eyes narrowed, Michael floats up to a mirror, and examines his wings in his reflection.

Michael: ...

Simeon: ...

Michael: Why is there a **sapphire feather** here?

Simeon: (That single sapphire feather...really stands out among the pure golden color of wings.)

Simeon: Decimus said —

Again, Michael doesn't let him finish.

Michael: I am busy here, and I don't have the time to go back and forth to the Devildom simply to adjust the appearance of my wings.

Simeon: It looks nice.

Simeon: (It really does. It's quite eye-catching. I don't know if it's because of the contrast of colors, or something else, but the effect is mesmerizing.)

Michael: That's the problem.

Michael: Everyone will think that I did this out of **vanity**. They'll think I started to do **highlights** or something.

Simeon: They wouldn't —

Michael rings his bell. The door opens, and an angel secretary pokes his head in.

Michael unfolds his wings.

Michael: How do I look?

Secretary: Oh, that's a nice highlight!

Michael: **OUT**!

The secretary flees. The door slams shut behind him. Michael scowls, staring at the door.

Michael: They're gossiping already.

Simeon: I'm sure they —

Michael: Don't you have **something else** for me?

Simeon: ...

Simeon: (At least let me finish a single sentence!)

Wordlessly, Simeon presents him the Long Ring of Succubus Touch.

Before Simeon can blink, Michael takes the ring and puts it on his own finger, holding it out to the sunlight.

The ostentatious amethyst catches sunlight, as though ignited, and all the lewd images upon the ring become especially vivid in great detail.

Michael nods in satisfaction.

Michael: The Devildom has finally started to send tribute.

Michael: About time.

Simeon: ...

Simeon: (I can't believe he put it on.)

Simeon: (But it doesn't look bad on him. It looks startlingly good, actually. I don't know many angels who can pull this off.)

Simeon: (However, it's not really tribute. It's payment.)

Simeon: (And if we're talking about that, haven't we paid much more to the Devildom because of the broken Scales...?)

Michael: I know what you're thinking. The Scales, right?

Michael rings his bell. The door opens, and the secretary pokes his head in.

Michael: What's your opinion on paying the Devildom for stress-testing the Scales?

Secretary: It was a waste of money!

Michael: That's a shortsighted way of thinking.

Michael: It wasn't a waste. It was an **investment**.

Simeon: ??

Secretary: An investment into what?

Michael: Into **the city of Aspire** , of course.

Simeon: !

Secretary: !

Michael: Although there is a demon in charge of the Source of Aspire right now, the territory of the Valley of Ruin does not formally belong to either the Celestial Realm or the Devildom.

Michael: Should a city be built there, we will finally have a Border City we've always wanted.

Michael: Such a city is what both of our Realms need in order to progress.

Simeon: (I thought Michael had given up on a Border City ages ago. That's quite a change of opinion.)

Secretary: The city of Aspire will never be built.

Michael smirks.

Michael: It will be. And sooner than anyone can imagine.

Simeon: ...

Simeon: (Michael doesn't really get along with any angels or demons. Much less humans. He has too little patience.)

Simeon: (That's why the current situation is especially strange. I didn't expect him to place his trust into a human to that degree.)

Simeon: (And it's eerie how they've been getting along so well, even before meeting each other...)

Michael: Not to mention, it really is good to know about that vulnerability in the Scales.

Michael: I don't want to imagine the consequences if that vulnerability was uncovered during a large-scale Judgement, involving hundreds of angels.

Michael: Simply to prevent such a disaster, it was money well spent.

Secretary: Buying back the sword of light at an auction at an exorbitant price was definitely a waste of money, though.

Secretary: Should've let the Demon King have it. You don't know when to give up.

Michael: **OUT**!

The secretary flees. The door slams shut.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the domain of Aspire...

Mammon: (chug — chug — chug)

Mammon: Whoa, that's a rush. I've never had Arden before. You can't even purchase it on the black market.

Decimus: The King brought a bottle along the last time he visited.

Decimus: This wine is suitable for celebrations. I've never had an occasion, so I never opened the bottle.

MC: Let me pour you a cup too, Decimus. Now is a good occasion to celebrate.

Decimus: True.

Mammon: ...

Mammon is watching darkly as I'm pouring a cup for Decimus.

Mammon: By the way, I've recovered your DevilDealer fee.

MC: Really? Haven't they refused to refund?

Mammon: They have, but Lucifer made a big fuss, so Diavolo dispatched Barbatos, who raided the DevilDealer's headquarters.

MC: (Barbatos probably sent those two minions of his, Slither and Fluffy. He doesn't do things like that in person.)

Mammon: The whole black market is in an uproar. Normally, Diavolo never interferes with 'em. Dark Moon's stocks are plummetin'. Come to think of it, now might be the best time to purchase gemstones in bulk.

MC: (As usual, things tend to descend into mayhem whenever I get involved.)

Mammon: The important part is, I've got your refunded fee here with me.

Mammon pats his pocket.

Mammon: What do ya wanna do with it?

MC: You can spend it on whatever you want.

Mammon nods.

Mammon: Then, I'm gonna invest it for ya.

Mammon: How about this new confectionary? They want to make sweets from the human world.

Mammon sidles over to me and shows me the website on his D.D.D.

Decimus: ...

MC: I don't know about that...

If possible, I'd like to invest into something metaphysically significant. A change that persists throughout all realities.

MC: I want to increase the overall power of the Devildom.

Mammon: Then, how about this mercenary company here? They're lookin' to promote the evolution of lower demons.

Mammon switches to another website on his D.D.D. and moves his arm closer to show me the screen.

Decimus: ...

Mammon: "Huntin' and trainin' grounds in a controlled environment, lower rates of mortality" — if ya invest more than 1,000,000 Grimm, they'll send ya the demons' pictures. Plus, there's a discount if ya ever hire them to kill anybody.

MC: Did you say pictures?

Decimus: If you **really** want to make a difference in the Devildom, the most efficient way is to stay by my side and help me with my work. **For eternity**.

Mammon looks up from his D.D.D., at Decimus. I can practically see thunderclouds gathering around Mammon's head.

Mammon: Listen here, ya —

Swiftly, I pick up a cookie and shove it into Mammon's mouth.

Mammon: Mmmph?!

MC: Will you look at that, your cups are empty!

I refill Mammon's and Decimus' cups, and I pour myself a cup, too.

MC: Let's have a toast. To our eternal alliance, may it lead to our mutual prosperity!

I raise my cup. Although the mood is not really celebratory, Mammon and Decimus follow suit.

Drinking Arden is like swallowing a ray of hot afternoon sun. It burns pleasantly. This isn't nearly as intense as eating an archangel's heart, though.

Mammon and Decimus already emptied their cups.

MC: I'd rather invest into the Aspire domain right now. Decimus, which beryls are better, green or yellow?

Decimus: If we're talking about the very best, that's Maar's black opal. Extremely easy to work with. But it can't be purchased in bulk; it's too rare. Besides, for lower demons, it's a bit of an overkill.

MC: Do you think you could buy at least one black opal with that DevilDealer fee, Mammon?

Mammon: Sure thing. Maybe I'll even be able to get two.

MC: Let's do that, then.

Decimus: What are you going to do with your part of the army?

MC: If possible, I want to have them work on building the city of Aspire.

There is a momentarily pause as both Decimus and Mammon are looking at me.

Mammon: ...

Decimus: ...

A gust of wind blows through the garden, bending the flowers.

Then Mammon nods.

Mammon: Investin' into real estate is very lucrative.

Mammon: If the prospects are good, I might do the same.

Mammon: I can see it already: "The Great Mammon, one of the Three Founders of Aspire." It has a nice ring to it.

Decimus: ...

MC: What are your plans, Decimus?

MC: Do you still want to build the city of Aspire here?

Decimus: ...

Decimus: I...

Decimus: I still have the blueprints of the city in the archive. I just need to dust them off.

Decimus: Once the whole reincarnation project is over and done with, then...

Decimus: Then, **of course**...

I refill our cups again.

MC: All right, let's drink to the city of Aspire!

Halfway through drinking his cup, Mammon passes out.

Decimus: Lightweight.

At Decimus' gesture, the afternoon sun goes out, replaced with the bright afternoon moon. Mammon's chair transforms into a hammock, where he is dozing fitfully.

Decimus: Well, no matter. This celebration is only better without him.


	72. Moon Gazing in the Devildom

Now that Mammon is asleep, Decimus has changed back into his true form again. He doesn't seem to have a human form, unlike the King.

Decimus: I can't believe this city is going to be funded with the money from the Celestial Realm. What are they planning?

MC: I bet they want a foothold here. They're trying to establish connections.

Decimus: That seems like an obvious conclusion, but I don't think Michael would want to...

He trails off, thinking.

MC: Why not? The potential benefits are numerous.

MC: You said your Source produces both Essence and Prime. Which other Sources can do the same?

Decimus: Mine is the only one.

MC: And didn't you say —

Abruptly, I fall silent.

Decimus: What's wrong?

MC: Someone is looking at us.

Decimus: ...So you've noticed?

Decimus gestures at the nearby apple tree. In response to his signal, a lower demon slinks out of the shadow of the tree, coming into view.

It's Nine.

MC: Nine, you woke up?

Nine: Orrm.

MC: Come here.

Gingerly, Nine edges towards me.

MC: Closer. Don't be afraid, I'm only a human.

That didn't seem to reassure him. Come to think of it, he probably doesn't know what humans are.

MC: Why were you watching us?

Nine: Uwou...

Decimus: He came because he smelled something good.

Nine's eyes shift, and I follow the direction of his gaze. There, a cup had fallen out of Mammon's hand, spilling blood-red Arden upon the pavement.

Decimus: He wants the spilled angel's blood.

Nine: Orroum.

MC: Sure, help yourself.

Nine licks the spilled wine. In just a few licks, all traces of red are gone from the marble.

MC: Good, isn't it?

Nine: Agrawarro, orrmaroo!

Decimus: Of course it's good. Celebratory wine, for a lower demon. You're spoiling him.

MC: Look who's talking. You're even feeding archangels to your lower demons. They'll grow fat on a diet like that.

Decimus: It was just one archangel. I don't do this on a regular basis.

MC: Only because archangels don't come here often.

Decimus: ...The moon is beautiful tonight.

Decimus looks a little flushed. Is it because of the wine, or is he feeling embarrassed?

MC: Very beautiful.

Decimus: You're supposed to look at the moon while you're saying that.

Decimus: Or else I might misunderstand.

I refill his cup.

MC: I wasn't talking about the moon.

Decimus downs his entire cup at once.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Nine crawling away stealthily.

MC: Where are you going, Nine?

Decimus: We haven't dismissed you.

Nine freezes in the middle of the motion, pressing back his ears.

Nine: Oou...

MC: Since you ended up drinking our celebratory wine, sing us a song in compensation.

Nine's ears perk up.

Decimus: Good idea.

Decimus: Sing. **Now**.

Nine: Orrm.

Nine sits up straight and lifts his nose heavenwards.

And then he lets out a long, petrifying **HOWL**.

Nine: AROOOOOOOOOO!

The howl pierces the air, at once menacing and melodic. It goes on and on, a clear, powerful sound that almost reaches the moon.

Even when the sound of the howl is over, it still seems to linger in the air.

The garden is plunged into complete silence.

MC: Oh? That was a nice howl. Somehow...doesn’t it sound really soothing?

Decimus: Yes. It's calming.

The next moment, there are responding howls from a distance.

The lower demons are howling from all directions, and more of them keep joining in. They aren't as good as Nine, but they make up for it with sheer numbers. The air is saturated with the uncanny sounds. We're surrounded by those sounds, enveloped in them.

Decimus is saying something, but I can't hear him. I try to read his lips.

Decimus: _Perimeter guard_.

Nine joins in once again, a clear solo in the chorus.

Now the sound is so permeative, I can't even hear my own thoughts. It's both terrifying and exciting, alarming and reassuring, wild and relaxing.

I try to speak, but I can't hear my own voice.

MC: I WANT TO JOIN IN!

Decimus: _Me too_.

MC: CAN YOU?

He grins.

As I watch, Decimus is transforming. This is... a demi-human shape. He has wolf ears now.

Decimus takes a deep breath.

The empty bottle of Arden shatters. Nine flattens himself against the pavement. Mammon falls out of his hammock.

I can feel, rather than hear, Decimus' howl. It is a tangible thing, like a wave spreading out, pushing against me, swaying me back and forth. The moon overhead is dancing.

The ground hums. The sound reverberates through my bones. My blood is singing.

In my pocket, I feel my D.D.D. vibrating.

With numb fingers, I check the incoming message.

[Luke: Are you all right? What's with that bloodcurdling HOWL?]

Don't tell me Decimus' howl even reached the Celestial Realm?

[MC: AWESOME RFIHT? IT'S REALKY MOVING! IT'S SOULFUL!!]

[Luke: ...]

[Luke: Are you drunk?]


	73. A Good Pretext

Decimus: You received a message too?

MC: It's from Luke, he's alarmed by the howl. You got one too?

Decimus: Both Father and Diavolo want to know whether I'm having a party here. Diavolo wants to join in.

He gave Diavolo his contact number...

MC: You're under a tight parental control here.

Decimus laughs. The idea of being under parental control seems to entertain him greatly.

Decimus: You can't even let out a single howl around here without causing a fuss.

Decimus: Come with me.

He takes my hand.

MC: ...

I follow Decimus through the garden. He doesn't seem to have a destination in mind, and he takes random, twisted turns. It looks like he has a lot of restless energy.

This garden is really pleasant in the moonlight. I can't remember when I last took an aimless walk like this.

More by accident than by design, we emerge in a meadow.

Decimus stops abruptly.

Decimus: Ah, this...

MC: ...

The place has really changed, but I still recognize it. This is where our trial was held.

Decimus is staring at the gently swaying grass. I think the soil underneath is still scorched.

Decimus: When Father unleashed his power, it was like being back on the battlefield of the Aspire Ridge. Back to that day when everything was lost.

Decimus: I couldn't move at all. I could only watch. It was the same as that day.

Decimus: Only this time, everything was different.

MC: ...

Decimus: This time, Disaster was halted in his tracks and pushed back.

Decimus: This time, Michael didn't run away. He stood his ground and used his power against Disaster.

Decimus: No one was destroyed, this time around.

Decimus: ...

Decimus: Father said that he would rewrite the past.

Decimus: I didn't think he could do it. There's no changing history.

Decimus: And yet, he has done it. And here we are.

MC: ...

Decimus: Diavolo was there too. That, too, was different.

He's mentioned Diavolo again.

MC: Have you been in contact with Diavolo?

Decimus: He's been trying to contact me. But I'm ignoring his messages.

Decimus: What about you?

Decimus: Have you spoken to him?

MC: He's spoken to me. He's made repeated demands.

Decimus: ...What does he want?

MC: You already know what, don't you?

Decimus: ...

MC: He wants to meet you.

MC: For some reason, he thinks I have the power to arrange that meeting.

Decimus: ...

Decimus: I do owe him for his help back there...

Decimus is silent for a long moment. Then he turns to look at me.

Decimus: Let's go back.

Decimus: We have a big project starting tomorrow morning, once Greed wakes up.

We return. I check on Mammon (who's been transported into the guest room by the means unknown, and is now sleeping in a comfy bed), then we have dinner (roasted cave nuts, yum, so nutritious that just half of a nut is enough to make me full), then I take a bath (where did this large collection of bath salts come from?)

In my room, I plop down on my bed.

Since there's nothing to do until morning, I think I'll go to sleep.

...

MC: (Zzz)

...

...

(knock, knock)

MC: !

Someone is knocking on my door.

I wake up and sit up abruptly, reaching under my pillow.

Decimus: It's me.

MC: ...Come in.

Decimus comes in and starts pacing around the room. His figure is flaring up with chaotic flames. He looks agitated.

I am watching him, bemused.

MC: Did something happen?

Decimus: I decided to meet with Diavolo.

MC: !!

Decimus: But I can't come up with a good pretext for the meeting.

MC: Why do you need a pretext?

MC: Just tell him that you want to meet him. He'll be here in an instant.

Decimus: I know!

Decimus: But a pretext is necessary. And it needs to be a **good** one.

Decimus: Whenever I meet with someone, it is always documented. The record remains in the royal archive and in the historical annals forever.

Decimus: And something like the first official meeting between the ex-Prince and the crown Prince is an especially big deal.

Decimus: Formalities need to be observed.

Decimus: Whenever Diavolo asked me for a meeting, he's always had a good pretext ready. I can't possibly make less of an effort than he did!

MC: Okay, okay. Let me think.

MC: What do you usually do when you meet someone? In a non-hostile context.

Decimus: I deceive them until I get everything I need out of them. Usually, what I need is information.

MC: Right.

MC: How about inviting him over for a game of chess?

Decimus: That is certain to end in a death match.

MC: Right...

I try to gather my thoughts. I am still slightly groggy from the sleep.

Decimus: It has to be an activity that is formal, non-competitive, and does not require us to talk.

That's a tall order...

Wait. I remember something.

MC: Before, didn't you paint a portrait of me?

Decimus: !

MC: And we didn't have a confrontation or anything in the process, right? It was relatively uneventful.

Well, unless you count that moment when I nearly exchanged my soul for a feather he's made.

Decimus: Are you suggesting...?

MC: Invite Diavolo over for the purpose of painting a formal portrait of him.

MC: That's a good enough pretext, right?

Decimus: That...sounds like an excellent idea.

Decimus: That just might work, but...

Decimus: I'm certain Diavolo has many formal portraits of himself already.

MC: I'm certain he doesn't have a single one.

Decimus: That's...not very plausible.

MC: Only one way to know for sure. We'll just have to ask Diavolo himself and find out.

MC: I'll go to the castle and talk to him right now.

I throw off the blankets and get out of bed.

Decimus: ?!

Decimus: Why aren't you wearing anything?

MC: Huh? I'm wearing a nightgown —

But I am speaking to the empty air. Decimus is gone.

MC: ???

What's with that reaction? Is there anything wrong with my nightgown?

I come up to the mirror in the bathroom. Ugh, it's still completely opaque.

Wait, I think there was one in the wardrobe. Let's see...

I study my reflection in the blurry, darkened wardrobe mirror.

This is just a normal nightgown. Well, I guess it's pretty long, and embroidered, and the fabric is thicker than normal (I have multiple anti-insomnia charms woven into it), but otherwise it doesn't look unusual.

It's not even revealing. Other than my head, my whole body is covered (mostly because I need a LOT of fabric to accomodate all those charms).

I see nothing that could send an archdemon warlord fleeing in panic.

And isn't it normal to sleep in nightwear? He should take a look at the demons in the House of Lamentation, who like to sleep in the nude.

MC: ...

Was I supposed to sleep fully armored, like Michael suggested? I mean, I do that sometimes, but right now, I just wanted to relax.

Well, no point thinking about it. It's time to serve as a messenger.

I change into my uniform (no hooded cloak), and take out the ring Diavolo gave me.

According to Solomon, this is a two-way portal to the Demon Lord's Castle.

I put the ring on. The emerald glows.

The surroundings dissolve around me, and reassemble back again into a different place.

That's a very smooth portal. The transition is without any bumps. You can't buy something like this on the market. This is quality artifact crafting.

But where am I?

It's a darkened room, with moonlight streaming through the ornate windows. There's a huge canopy bed in the middle.

Someone is sleeping in that bed.

MC: ...

Come to think of it, what time is it?

I check my D.D.D.

3:03 am.

MC: ...

Not the best time for visits, especially without any warning, but there's no way I'm going to wait until morning. Decimus is too agitated, and what if he changes his mind? Besides, I don't have much patience myself.

All right, let's get out of here and find Diavolo.

When I'm almost at the door, I stop.

Say. Whose room is this? And why did I end up here?

When I travel between dimensions, I always end up in random rooms. I'm used to it already. But portals are different. They're connected to specific destinations.

There's no way this room belongs to Barbatos. I've already seen his room; it's full of doors, and he doesn't even have a bed. So whose room is this?

Slowly, I turn around and stare at the bed. Through the bed's canopy, I can only see the vague outline of the one sleeping there.

Suppose this is Diavolo's bedroom?

Should I exit the room and knock?

But suppose it's someone else's bedroom? Wouldn't it be strange to knock on a random demon's door, in the middle of the night?

I really should've asked Diavolo where this portal is leading to.

Let's just...take a better look at the inhabitant. Quietly.

I creep up to the bed, as close as I dare to get without waking its occupant.

I can see the sleeping demon better now.

MC: ...

Yeah, that's Diavolo.

Through the silky canopy, I can faintly discern his face. Besides, he's sleeping without any cover, and there is no mistaking that body. He does have a nightwear on, but it doesn't conceal much.

I can see him breathing in his sleep, the half-transparent canopy swaying gently, with its embroidered images of butterflies and dragons glittering in the moonlight.

And I just realized something. I've never seen Diavolo in casual clothes. He's always either in his uniform, or in his ceremonial attire. This is the first time I see him so undressed. It's so unusual...

Once I look away and leave, I'll probably never see him like this again.

MC: ...

A few moments pass, but I am still standing there, as though spellbound, just gazing at him.

MC: ...

Why am I ogling Diavolo in his sleep?

If Luke knew about this, I would never live it down. Just how far have I fallen, to take advantage of a sleeping demon in this manner? Creeping into his room in the middle of the night and then just watching him sleep? This is like stalking 101, right? People find this sort of thing creepy.

I really should look away. And I would look away, if only I could.

MC: ...

I...I can't look away. Someone help me.

MC: Diavolo...

His breathing hitches, and he opens his eyes.

MC: !

The spell is broken. I blink and tear my gaze away, trying to gather my scattered wits.

I can feel his eyes upon me. I should explain myself.

Diavolo: ...It's you.

He sits up, studying me through the canopy.

Diavolo: Do you have news for me?

MC: That's...right.

MC: Decimus agreed. He will meet you.

Diavolo does not respond. He is silent and motionless.

Did he not hear me?

Diavolo: What...did you say?

MC: I said, Decimus will meet you.

MC: But there is a condition.

Diavolo: What condition?

MC: He wants to paint a formal portrait of you.

MC: So he will meet you, but only if you have no formal portraits of yourself.

MC: Now that you know this, I must ask you a question, on Decimus' behalf.

MC: Do you have any formal portraits of yourself?

Diavolo: I...

I hope he's not going to blurt out "yeah, I have hundreds" because he's still groggy from the sleep.

Hurriedly, I raise my hand to stop him.

MC: Wait a moment, think this through. If you have even a single portrait, this meeting will not happen.

Diavolo gets off the bed, pushing the canopy away.

MC: ?!

He is completely undressed! I mean, he's wearing some sort of flimsy nightwear thing, but it's only a single layer, so it doesn't even count!

And I am standing **way too close**.

There is no way I would be able to restrain myself from "ogling", as Luke would put it, in such intimate setting. And if my demon-gazing habit is obvious even to an angel, then it should be obvious to **anyone**. Especially to Diavolo himself!

He probably won't say anything, but that doesn't mean he doesn't mind. He might be too polite to tell me to stop, especially considering the circumstances. And I don't want to embarrass myself too badly in front of him either.

All of those thoughts flash through my mind in an instant, culminating in a single conclusion: **I must escape**.

I stumble backwards, trying to put some distance between us.

Diavolo: !

Diavolo: **Where are you going**?

Anywhere but here.

MC: I'll wait for your answer outside!

I turn to flee.

Faster than I can react, Diavolo lunges forward, seizing my wrist.

MC: ?!

For all the dead deities' sake, this is **too close**! And why does he have such an iron grip?

Diavolo: You're not going anywhere until I give you my answer.

Diavolo: This way.

He hauls me out into the corridor.

MC: ...

I am too stunned to resist.

Before long, we're in the portrait gallery.

Sure enough, Diavolo has quite a few portraits of himself...

I do hope he didn't bring me here simply to show them to me.

Diavolo raises his hand. There is a crackle of black lightning. In a single moment, Diavolo obliterates the entire gallery.

Diavolo: I don't have any portraits of myself.

MC: ...

Evidently. **Not anymore**.

MC: I'll go back and tell Decimus that.

MC: So...would you mind releasing me?

Diavolo: ...

He does not react. That's not a good sign.

I know how portals work. If you use one while someone else is holding onto you, that person will be brought along too. Diavolo better not be considering it. And I hope he's not thinking of taking me captive just to negotiate my return with Decimus.

I am pretty sure thoughts like these are running through his head.

MC: You can't visit yet. Wait for the invitation. It will be soon enough, now.

MC: He wants to do it properly, in recognition of your efforts.

Diavolo: ...Very well.

Diavolo: I'll wait, but not for long. I'm nearly out of patience.

He releases me with visible reluctance.

Without looking at him, I take off the ring and put it on my other hand.

My surroundings dissolve.

And then I am back in my room in the House of Aspire.


	74. The Revenant

Decimus isn't here.

MC: Nine?

There is a responding "oou". Nine pokes his head out from under my bed.

...What is he doing there? Oh yeah, I remember Mammon assigned him as my bodyguard.

MC: Put that nose of yours to work and find Decimus.

Nine covers his nose instinctively with his paw.

MC: I'm not going to tweak it.

MC: Come on, now. Take me to where he is.

Nine: ...Orrm.

Nine leads me through the twisting corridors of the house to a study room. I can see light inside.

MC: Dismissed.

Nine evaporates. I knock on the door, and it opens in response.

Decimus sits at the table covered in scattered parchments, reading what looks like a large map.

He glances at me quickly, then lowers his gaze again.

MC: I'm back!

Decimus: ...Welcome back.

MC: Good news. Diavolo doesn't have any formal portraits of himself!

MC: Actually, he doesn't have **any** portraits.

Decimus: ...

Decimus: What happened to all of his portraits, if I may hazard the question?

MC: There's been a little accident at the castle, and his portrait gallery ceased to exist.

Decimus nods. He looks very unsurprised.

MC: What's with all these parchments?

Decimus: They're original blueprints for the city of Aspire. I was just giving them a read.

Decimus pushes them aside.

Decimus: Since I have a good pretext now, I'll write a letter to the King about inviting Diavolo here.

Decimus starts scribbling on a parchment quickly, then stops. He discards the parchment, and starts another one.

MC: ...

During the following minute, Decimus goes through several drafts, but never finishes the letter. He pauses, and glowers at half-finished letter in front of him balefully.

It looks like this letter isn't easy to compose.

MC: Want me to bring you a snack?

Decimus glaces up at me from under his lashes, then nods.

I turn to leave.

Decimus: Wait.

MC: ?

Decimus: ...Thank you.

I glance back over my shoulder. His gaze is lowered, and he is staring fixedly at his letter.

MC: Anytime.

I exist the study. Once I'm out in the corridor, my footsteps gradually come to a halt.

This is rather nice. It's unusual to have someone who relies on you.

I can't imagine Lucifer waking me up in the middle of the night because he needs urgent advice about some problem he's having. And even if I notice that he's having trouble and confront him about it, he'd probably say that it's not something I should worry about.

To tell the truth, Lucifer doesn't really need my help. He's got so many brothers already, not to mention Diavolo and Barbatos. And, of course...that cute little sister of his.

Together, they're more or less a unified front. A closed circle.

It might be fractured now, but the moment that circle is restored to full strength, it will naturally close itself, like ouroboros.

There is no place in that circle for outsiders.

 _Urma_.

MC: ?

Someone nudges my foot. I look down.

Nine is crouching at my feet, looking up at me.

Oh. I must have stood here too long in a daze, and he got worried.

MC: I'm lost.

MC: Show me the way to the kitchen.

Nine: Warru.

MC: ...Why are you looking at me like that?

I reach out and tweak his nose. An pained expression appears in Nine's eyes, but he doesn't move away. I pet him in compensation.

MC: Your fur could stand being more glossy. You should eat more nutritious things. You've just reincarnated and need to recover your strength.

Nine: Grorrm.

MC: Perimeter guards seem to like you. Must be because of your strong singing voice. You should go out to hunt together with them sometime.

Nine: Arrao, rrawo.

MC: Just because you died once, that's no reason to stay dead. You can't let it get you down. You'll come back better and stronger than before.

Nine: ...Urma.

Nine nudges my foot again.

MC: Hehe, are you trying to say "human"? How cute.

I pet him again.

MC: Let's get something to eat from the kitchen, and then we can go to the archive and search for traces of Swoop.

Nine: !

MC: No need to look so surprised. I promised you, didn't I?

Nine: ...Urma, grawarro.

MC: No problem. Besides, I am curious myself.

MC: After the Battle of Aspire, your Commander has successfully reincarnated. I have confirmed that.

MC: But I haven't looked into what has become of him since.

MC: Do you want to accompany me and find out?

Nine: ...Orrwaru!

MC: You're pretty talkative, for a lower demon. I don't dislike that.

Nine: Rorro grawarro werreom. Barrooo!

MC: All right, let's get moving. Kitchen first.

In the kitchen, a shimmering Prime construct that Decimus calls "auto-chef" listens patiently to my vague requests (an energy replenisher for me, something delicious for Decimus, something nutritious for Nine), then makes me a late-night snack out of suspiciously enormous eggs. Nine gets a bloody piece of meat, which he swallows in one gulp, and I receive a tray with a glittering glass for Decimus.

I examine the glass as I carry it. Are those gemstones inside, submerged in the sparking liquid? Or are they cores? It's hard to tell, because, before I even reach the study, the items in the glass dissolve into the sparkling liquid.

Decimus accepts the glass with a nod. He's still working on his letter. Before I can ask him what he's drinking, a crow glides in through the window, drops a newspaper on the table, and departs.

I glance at the headlines.

"Greed and Ruin Join Hands: Apocalypse Is Imminent"

"Dis Spokesdemon Reiterates That Avatar of Ruin Does Not Officially Exist, the Lord of the Devildom Unavailable for Comment"

"An Incident at the Demon Lord's Castle Results in the Destruction of the Portrait Gallery: The Revenant Strikes Again?"

MC: (The Revenant?)

I pick up the newspaper and scan the article.

This is an official statement about the unfortunate and complete destruction of the castle's gallery that resulted in a total loss of all of the Prince's formal portraits.

This only just happened, and the statement already made it into the newspapers. Looks like Diavolo is eager to make the lack of his portraits public as quickly as possible.

The mysterious Revenant isn't mentioned anywhere in the article, except for the headline itself.

MC: Do you mind if I read the previous newspapers?

Decimus sweeps the pile of unfinished drafts off the table, and digs out several previous newspaper issues, which he hands to me.

I look through them.

Soon enough, the origin of the Revenant moniker becomes clear.

When the Celestial Realm announced the destruction of the Scales, it was declared that three parties were involved in the incident. There's been much speculation in the Devildom's press about the identities of those parties.

One was identified as the legendary, and officially non-existent Avatar of Ruin. The other, a mysterious vigilante archangel who acts independently of the Celestial Realm (I need to mention this theory to Luke, he is sure to be outraged at the vigilante bit). And the third, a human of tremendous power, who has transcended the boundaries of life and death: the Revenant.

Since then, all the mysterious and unexplained phenomena happening in the Devildom have been attributed to the Revenant's involvement.

MC: (I am surprised how close to the truth their gossip is. Do they have an insider source?)

MC: Decimus, me and Nine are going to the archive. We want to track down Nine's Commander.

He nods without looking up.

Decimus: Don't forget to join me for breakfast.

It seems he doesn't mind if I make myself at home here and rummage through his archive as I please.

Once in the archive, I go from shelf to shelf methodically, using references and cross-references to track down the one who used to be Swoop.

The results are rather surprising. Ever since reincarnating, Swoop has already died and reincarnated again multiple times.

He is apparently lacking in self-preservation and acts like a magnet for trouble. He gets in over his head before he knows it, and then things escalate too quickly for him to handle.

I continue my tracking, going through one funeral case to another.

Death from death, name from name, identity from identity, I finally reach the end of the trail — his current self.

MC: Found you, Mephistopheles.

I'm looking at the last scroll. Nine places his heavy head on my knee and reads the scroll too.

MC: It's him, Nine. There is no mistake.

Nine: Mrrr.

MC: His name is Mephistopheles, and he is alive right now.

MC: Your former Commander really has a penchant for mischief.

Nine: Orrmorau.

MC: Do you want to see him?

Nine shakes his head.

Nine: Norru.

MC: I agree. Let the past be the past.

Still, something is bothering me.

Why does he die so often?

I return to the original scroll, Mephisto's very first reincarnation.

Decimus had a lot of trouble with him. Swoop was too damaged. He's been exposed to the King's power directly. Since the damage index of his core was above the recommended limit, Decimus meticulously reinforced the surface of the core until he deemed it safe for the ritual.

But the ritual itself didn't go smoothly either. It only barely pulled through.

After reincarnation, Swoop ended up with a high baseline damage index, and that apparently has never changed. He used to be a mid-ranker, and even after all this time, he has never evolved in rank.

Perhaps this has something to do with metaphysical damage. Decimus did mention that there is a way to recover from that...

MC: ...

Should I try and meet Mephisto in person?

Or should I let the matter drop?

MC: ...

In the end, it was Swoop's quick and decisive actions that resulted in saving Nine, and created a chain of events that eventually led to the current breakthrough in Decimus' large-scale reincarnation project. It was Swoop's actions that led to the improved prospects for the city of Aspire.

I am not some sort of fair judge. Just the opposite, in fact — I am very biased. But I believe that those who make a difference on a grander scale, knowingly or unknowingly, should be rewarded for their efforts.

Especially if their actions are in favor of the Devildom.

MC: ...

Let's at least try to find him, see what he's doing right now. If he's happy with his life, then there's no need to get involved.

According to the records I've looked through, whenever Decimus wants current information on living demons, he writes a letter of request to someone named "S.B."

I don't want to distract Decimus from composing his letter to the King. I can contact that S.B. on my own. If there is no reply, then so be it.

But in such a case, I would, of course, add a line to the scroll saying that there's been no reply from S.B. I am not vengeful or anything — I merely like to be accurate in my accounts.

I write a letter requesting the current and full information on Mephistopheles, his place of employment, his state of affairs, his finances, and his health.

After finishing the letter, I debate for a moment how to sign it. I don't wish to give false information about myself, but at the same time, I don't wish to come across as someone who can be easily dismissed.

Finally, I make my decision.

Moving the quill in precise calligraphic strokes, I write down two words: The Revenant.


	75. Claimed

The work in the archive took less time than I expected. There is still an hour until dawn.

I return to my room and lie down for a short nap.

The moment I close my eyes, I know I'm in trouble.

MC: (...Why am I remembering that?)

It's like I'm back in Diavolo's bedroom, standing next to his bed, with the canopy swaying gently before me. I see the outline of his body again, vividly, if through a haze, and it's not just an image — all the sensations are recalled in perfect detail.

MC: (It's been several hours already. I thought it'd be long enough for me to forget it.)

I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling.

MC: (How am I supposed to sleep like that?)

It seems I have no choice but to use THAT.

I take out my D.D.D. and open the folder with pictures of Mammon.

MC: ...

I keep browsing Mammon's pictures until all images of unrelated demons are wiped away from my mind.

Just looking at Mammon makes me feel like all my worries disappear and all my thoughts are silenced, balanced out into a blank state.

I feel calmer now.

MC: All right. I have this **under control**.

Or should I look at pictures of others too, just to be safe?

My finger hovers over the triple-encrypted folder.

MC: No, not yet.

Lucifer's pictures are for dire emergencies.

MC: (The situation isn't that bad yet.)

I do have pictures of others, but they're just for memories. I'm reluctant to use them for my demon-gazing meditation since I'm not sure whether they would mind that.

I haven't asked them what they'd think about it. How do you even bring that up in a casual conversation? "Do you mind if I gaze upon your pictures while lying in bed and fantasizing about you? It helps me relax."

I imagine asking Levi this question.

MC: ...

MC: No. I don't think it would end well. What if he ends up hospitalized?

Or, for example, Asmo...

MC: I don't think so. If I did that, I'd never hear the end of his boasting. And neither would anybody else.

I could try asking Satan, but what if he finds that question off-putting? I can't reliably gauge his feelings on the matter, and sometimes, I get an impression that he himself doesn't know how he feels. A moment of peace isn't worth the risk.

The reason I chose Mammon is because he already knows about this. He caught me in the act once, when I was gazing at the magazine with him on the cover. I know for a fact that he wouldn't mind.

Of course, I could always try doing my demon-gazing in secret, like a normal pervert. However, I can't seem to do things in moderation. I have only collected a few pictures of Mammon (okay, maybe more than just a few), and both Solomon and Belphie have already learned all about it.

Speaking of Mammon, I wonder if he's woken up yet?

Once he wakes up, what would he do?

I have a sudden, vivid image of Mammon leaving his room, wandering the twisted corridors of the house on his own, and sneaking into Decimus' study, trying to steal something, where Decimus, stressed out from composing his letter, takes it out on him in a moment of irritation.

I sit up abruptly.

MC: Nine!

Nine pokes his head down from the ceiling rafters.

Nine: Oou?

MC: Let's go check on Mammon.

Nine: Orrs.

I follow Nine. Wow, I didn't pay attention before, but it's quite a distance walking all the way to Mammon's room. I think Decimus placed us on the opposite ends of the house.

We arrive at the door, where I stop and listen to the sounds inside.

All is quiet.

MC: Think he's there, asleep?

Nine replies confidently.

Nine: Orumu.

Nine raises his paw, with a clear intention of scratching on the door.

I catch his paw to stop him.

MC: Don't.

Nine: Marmmow!

I press my hand over his nose.

Nine: !

MC: Hush. Don't call his name, let him sleep. He's going to need all his strength for the project come morning.

There's only an hour or two left. Let's just wait until he wakes up on his own.

I sit down on the floor and lean against the door.

Now, if Decimus comes to pick a fight with Mammon, he'd have to literally step over my body first.

MC: (yawn)

For some reason, I finally feel relaxed and sleepy. A wave of drowsiness overcomes me.

MC: (I'll just rest my eyes for a moment.)

My consciousness is getting blurry.

I seem to have a nice scaly pillow nearby. But it's a bit angular. I try to adjust it into a more comfortable shape.

Nine: ...

MC: (Zzz)

...

...

_Wake up._

MC: (Zzz)

Mammon: Wake up!

MC: Huh?

My eyes fly open. The first thing I see is Mammon's face, staring down at me.

MC: (What happened?)

Mammon: W-w-w-why are ya sleepin' at my door?!

MC: (Oh. I fell asleep.)

MC: (Well, this is awkward. What do you usually say in such a situation?)

Mammon: And why are ya usin' HIM as a pillow?!

Nine: Wou...

MC: Oh. Sorry, Nine.

I move away from Nine. No wonder I thought my pillow was a little angular.

Mammon is glaring at Nine, who flattens himself against the floor.

Mammon: Oi, Nine. Why didn't ya wake me up?

MC: Because I told him not to.

MC: Are you feeling rested now?

Mammon: Ya don't have to worry about wakin' me up!

Mammon: Next time, ya should just come in. Wait, no — I'm sleepin' in your room next time!

Decimus: **Out of the question**.

MC & Mammon: !

Decimus is wearing my form again, and his smile is bone-chilling.

MC: (I don't have a smile like that. ...Right?)

Decimus: Time for our project to begin.

MC: Wait, what about —

There is a flash of dark light, and both Decimus and Mammon disappear.

MC: — breakfast?

MC: ...

MC: Oh well, I'll just have to bring out some boxed breakfast to them.

MC: It's not like I can do anything else. I can't help out with the consecration.

MC: Nine.

Nine, who had stealthily disappeared at some point, materializes next to me.

MC: Sorry about getting you involved in all that. We gave you a fright, didn't we?

Nine: ...Norru.

MC: You're pretty resilient, if you can handle conflicting loyalties. And you know when to hide yourself. I know it must be stressful, but keep working hard, and you will evolve into a mid-ranker in no time.

Nine: Grawarro armarran!

I pet him.

MC: Show me the way to the kitchen again. I have no idea how to get there from Mammon's room.

Nine: Urma, harrvoss?

MC: What? I really am lost. I can tell from your tone that you doubt me.

Nine: Harrvoss narr.

MC: Okay, maybe I enjoy ordering you around a bit. It's satisfying to see you alive. Gives me a sense of accomplishment.

Just a few hours ago, I held his core in my hand, on the verge of shattering. But now he has become quite lively and chatty. Seeing that is calming.

Nine: ...Urma.

MC: Go on, lead the way.

Nine: Orrm.

Half an hour later, I emerge out of the house, carrying boxes of breakfast. Outside, an unusual sight greets me.

Decimus is walking methodically through the field of flowers, apparently counting his steps. Mammon is following him, carrying a bundle of what looks like gem-encrusted spikes. From time to time, Decimus stops and points at a spot on the ground. Then Mammon extracts one of the spikes out of his bundle and plants it deeply into that spot.

I don't know what I expected, but I didn't think consecration would look like this.

Wait, doesn't it look like...Mammon is really exhausted?

He is. He's swaying on his feet, and he's practically drenched in sweat.

MC: (But it hasn't even been that long. And he looked completely fine earlier.)

Are those spikes very heavy?

MC: (Is he going to be okay?)

Even as I think that, Mammon trips over his own feet, wobbles under the weight of his bundle, and topples over.

MC: !

There is a faint pulse of Prime. Mammon falls to the ground, but his bundle of spikes is left hovering harmlessly in the air, suspended by Decimus' power.

It looks like the rite is interrupted anyway. There's no harm if I come closer.

Decimus levitates the bundle of spikes away as I check on Mammon.

He's lying still, breathing shallowly, eyes closed, and he looks pale.

MC: What's wrong with him?

Decimus: Nothing's wrong. He will recover in a minute. He's merely run out of endurance.

MC: Already...?

Decimus looks mildly irritated, but not surprised.

Decimus: For someone who's never consecrated a thing before, this is only to be expected. The whole ground around here needs to be claimed. I chose a faster pace, hoping to finish it all in one go, but that didn't work out.

Decimus: Now we'll have to take a break.

Looks like there's no harm done to Mammon.

MC: Take a break for breakfast. You'll both feel stronger after eating.

Decimus accepts a box from me with a nod of thanks.

During our brief exchange, Mammon seems to have recovered a little, and he opens his eyes weakly.

MC: If you don't need me here, I'm going out shopping.

Mammon: !

Decimus: Then, take Greed with you.

Mammon: ?!

MC: ...Why?

Decimus: If he stays here, the consecration field will only further drain his spiritual power. And then we'll never get a thing done.

Decimus: Return in an hour. I'll finish the mapping while you're away, and the first barrel of gemstones will arrive by then, so we'll be able to resume the work right away.

Decimus: Unless you don't want to take him with you?

Mammon: ...

Decimus: In that case, I can come up with **other arrangements** for him.

MC: Mammon, do you want to come with me?

Mammon: Sure.

MC: All right, let's go.

MC: I'm going to the Delish Market. Decimus, do you need anything from there? I can run errands for you on the way.

Decimus: Hmm.

All of a sudden, Decimus doesn't look irritated anymore.

Decimus: Nothing from the market, but...You'll be passing the Dismal Plateau on the way.

Decimus: Bring this to the lower demons there.

Decimus moves his hands, weaving strands of Prime together into a single shape.

I watch his work with interest. Seeing him create things is always fascinating.

The Prime construct is taking shape. In just a few seconds, it takes the appearance of a deceptively normal-looking tabby cat.

Decimus floats the cat into my outstretched arms.

MC: ...

Despite its fluffy appearance, the cat is uncannily light and cold. I can feel no heartbeat. Up close, it emanates the unmistakable aura of a demonic creation.

Perhaps I am imagining this, but I can faintly discern Decimus' own signature on it.

I pet the cat. It raises its head, and its pitch-black eyes stare into mine, before blinking slowly. It reaches out its paw, and touches my hand with its claws withdrawn.

MC: Hehe, it petted me back!

The cat emits a blood-chilling **meow**. Before I can blink, it climbs up my arm, and, with a flick of its shimmering tail, settles around my shoulders, like an otherworldly feather boa.

MC: Are you sure those lower demons are going to be okay...?

Decimus: They'll be fine. The construct won't last long, and it won't do any serious harm. This is just something to entertain them. Hunting is good for their development.

Decimus: It would be ideal if they can catch it and eat it before the construct dissolves.

At this point, Mammon regains his breath enough to speak to me.

Mammon: Don't ya go getting attached to this cat. It's goin' to be eaten.

MC: I can tell this thing is pure Prime. I'm not going to get attached to it.

I pet the cat again.

Cat: **Meow**.

Mammon: ...

Decimus: If you like this construct enough, I might make a permanent blueprint for it.

Decimus: Now go, before Greed passes out.

MC: Mammon, can you stand?

Mammon: I uh...might need a little help with that...

I reach out my hand.

There is a familiar flare of a transportation spell, and just before my fingertips can touch him, Mammon disappears.

Decimus: I moved him to the gates.

MC: ...

I lower my hand.

Decimus: The carriage is already waiting for you there.

MC: How's your letter? Did you manage to finish it?

Decimus: Yes. I sent it off half an hour ago. The things must have been set into motion already.

Decimus: I expect a reply from the King any moment now.

MC: You don't sound like you look forward to it.

Decimus: I have my apprehensions.

Decimus: I'm not going to change my mind, however.

MC: ...

MC: Then, I'll be off.

Decimus: Yes.

MC: Call me if anything happens while I'm away.

Decimus: ...Yes.

I turn and start walking briskly towards the gates.


	76. A Breakfast in a Carriage

Past the gates, a coachdemon salutes me and helps a staggering Mammon into a black carriage without any distinguishing insignia. Inside, this carriage is just as luxurious as the royal one.

MC: Delish Market, and stop at the Dismal Plateau on the way.

The flying carriage smoothly takes off. Mammon sprawls over the pillows opposite me, looking faint.

MC: How are you feeling?

Mammon: Everythin's hazy, and I hear roarin' in my ears.

MC: Do you think you could eat breakfast?

Mammon's gaze focuses on the box in my hands.

Mammon: Did ya make it?

MC: Well...no. The auto-chef did.

I wonder if he's going to refuse?

But Mammon reaches out and takes the box from me. He opens the lid and examines the contents.

Mammon: Did the auto-chef prepare this cup of instant noodles too?

MC: ...No. That was me.

MC: But all I did was add boiled water to it.

I also had to endure a lecture from the auto-chef about it, who at first refused to order the ramen in. Something about the nutritional value of instant noodles. Geez, tell me something I don't know. I just wanted to add something to the box that Mammon would definitely enjoy.

MC: The noodles should be ready by now, so eat them before they become —

Mammon is already gobbling them up.

MC: — soggy.

MC: (Looks like he's become more energetic now. Good.)

MC: (I wonder if it's because we left the Aspire domain?)

MC: Eat the rest of the food too, or else there won't be instant noodles next time.

I'm planning to purchase a whole package of ramen with Mammon's favorite flavor during this trip, so that I won't have to battle the auto-chef for it the next time.

Mammon: Sure, sure.

True to his word, he finishes the entire box, then leans back in his seat.

Mammon: Whew, I feel much better now.

Mammon: Decimus is worse than Lucifer. Would it kill him to slow down a little?

Mammon: Speakin' of Lucifer, want to see his picture?

MC: ?!

The offer blindsides me completely. Before I can react, Mammon takes out his D.D.D., and I find myself staring at a picture of Lucifer.

Lucifer is sitting at his desk, writing something. He looks the same as usual — which is to say, highly irritable. He's glaring at the camera — or rather, at the one taking this picture. There are piles of parchments heaped all over his desk.

MC: Buried in paperwork as usual...

Those parchments look more chaotic than normal, however. He didn't even bother putting them into stacks.

Mammon: He's writin' a letter. He's been writin' it half the night, apparently. All of the papers ya see there are just discarded drafts of that single letter.

MC: Really.

MC: (This is probably about Diavolo's meeting with Decimus. Is Lucifer writing a letter to the King too?)

MC: (No way. Diavolo would write that letter himself for sure.)

MC: (I wonder who Lucifer is writing to, and what it's about?)

Mammon: Asmo sent me this picture first thing in the mornin'. He's been tryin' to get Lucifer to tell him who he's writin' to, and Lucifer snapped at him.

MC: (Even Asmo couldn't find it out?)

MC: (That doesn't sound like official business, or else Lucifer would've just said so. It sounds personal.)

MC: (Well, this is none of my business. I don't care who the recipient is.)

MC: ...

MC: (I don't think I've ever received a letter from Lucifer.)

My mood plummets, but Mammon seems not to notice.

Mammon: Lucifer's always been secretive. It's nothin' new.

Mammon: I have a picture of Satan too.

He waves his D.D.D., but doesn't show me the picture right away this time.

MC: Stop waving it and show me the picture already. Did his horn grow back?

Mammon grins.

Mammon: Mostly.

Mammon opens the picture. Satan is sitting next to the fireplace, reading a book.

MC: The tip of his horn is still missing.

And why is he in his true form? Did he just change for the picture?

Mammon: Lucifer called someone in to take a look at him, and the doc said the tip always takes the longest to grow back.

I wonder if he needs to eat more calcium, or something like that. What do demons usually eat for their horns to grow better? 

MC: What else did the doctor say?

Mammon: Beats me. But I swiped Satan's medical record from Lucifer's desk, wanna see?

Mammon reaches into his pocket, and takes out several crumpled parchments.

I can't believe he actually broke into Lucifer's study in order to steal that. But, seeing how Lucifer is so busy with his important letter, he probably wouldn't notice the absence of the records for a while.

I take the parchments from Mammon and smooth them out.

MC: When did you do that?

Mammon: Just before comin' here for the meetin' with Decimus.

It looks like he came prepared in more ways than one.

MC: Good job. You've done well.

Mammon preens.

Mammon: I figured you'd want to know all of that stuff. Talkin' on the D.D.D. isn't really private, ya never know who might be listenin'. That was my chance to tell ya all of that in person.

I suppose I don't mind learning all of those things. And now that we're on this subject...

MC: I heard Levi was held in the Royal Prison?

Mammon: Yeah, for a bit.

MC: Is he all right? I heard that place is really cold.

Mammon: It's pretty cold, but he had a flamin' cloak for some reason. No idea where he got that.

MC: Do you have a picture of him too?

Mammon smirks.

Mammon: Yeah, I have it.

MC: ...What's with the smug look?

Mammon: Told him I was goin' to need it. He kept hemmin' and hawin', and goin' on how "there's no need for it" and "nobody will ask to see it" —

MC: Hurry up and show me the picture. Or do I need to use force?

Mammon: Oh, that's a good one. I'll be sure to tell Levi that you wrestled me for his picture. He's gonna love that.

MC: Mammon...

He laughs.

Mammon: Here ya go.

Mammon opens the picture. There's Levi, staring into the camera, tense and wide-eyed, and holding a bunch of game discs to his chest like a shield.

MC: (He looks normal. Nothing seems to be wrong.)

MC: (Well, if there was any major damage, the pact would've informed me.)

MC: (Still, it's reassuring to see him with my own eyes, if indirectly.)

MC: (However, those games...)

Mammon: He looks normal, doesn't he?

MC: !

MC: ...Yeah.

Mammon: Check out those new games of his, though. All of them are horror-theme edition. Gives me the creeps just lookin' at the covers.

Mammon: And another weird thing is, he keeps gettin' those letters from the Legion.

MC: He's getting correspondence from **soldiers**?

Mammon: Yup. Strange, huh?

MC: Well, Levi has always been a weapon enthusiast...

But I admit that is extremely strange.

Mammon: It's not about weapons. They're askin' him questions about Ruri-chan.

MC: Huh?

Mammon: I know, right? They want to know about rare merchandise and whatnot. Dunno since when the soldiers have become such ardent fans of Ruri-chan.

Mammon: Levi's never been sociable, but right now, he's the one who receives the most letters in the house. Even more than Asmo.

Mammon: Asmo thinks Levi is trying to re-recruit Diavolo's own soldiers.

Mammon: The rest of us think it's nonsense, and Asmo is just jealous, but who knows? Maybe Levi does have a plan, and he's tryin' to start his own Ruri-chan cult or somethin'.

MC: I certainly hope not.

Well, I'm sure Lucifer can get whatever's going on with Levi under control, before it escalates too far.

Probably.

I spread the parchments with Satan's medical data on my knees.

After skimming through the records, it becomes clear that the doctor recommended a certain supplement called "HRNS-13". The doctor also mentions that the patient flat-out refused to take the supplement without any explanation. Further on, the doctor cautiously cites possible heightened irritability as a result of the itching from the regrowing horn.

MC: If he doesn't take the supplement, his horn would only take longer to grow, and he would have to spend even more time feeling irritated.

Mammon: The doc might be wrong about it. Nothing's changed about Satan's behavior.

Mammon: Well, except that he's been staying in his true form most of the time.

MC: ...That's even more worrying.

This is proof that he's keeping his emotions bottled up too deep inside. The situation is starting to look dangerous. There won't be any warning signs right until he snaps.

If he wouldn't take the supplement, what about actual food?

I send a message to Decimus.

[MC: Do you know any food that contains HRNS-13?]

[Decimus: Banesroot is best. I had my horns broken multiple times, and it really helps with the itch from regrowth.]

[MC: Where can I buy it?]

[Decimus: Nowhere. It's out of season right now.]

[MC: How long until it becomes in season again?]

[Decimus: Not long. A couple of hundred years at most.]

MC: That's too long!

Mammon: What is?

MC: Decimus says, Banesroot is good for horns.

Mammon: Banesroot, huh? Yeah, it's versatile. I bet Satan would make tons of dishes with it. Too bad it's out of season.

MC: Could it be found on the black market right now?

Mammon: Might be. Banesroot is pretty popular, lots of demons like it. It's easy to grow when it's in season, but when it's out of season, it's almost impossible.

Mammon: There might be some crazy enthusiasts who grow Banesroot in their private orangeries, but they wouldn't sell it unless they're really down on their luck.

That does sound like a stretch, but it's worth a try.

MC: All right, let's visit the black market after we're done with everything else.

The flying carriage is slowing down.

Coachdemon: We have arrived at the Dismal Plateau.


	77. An Outing With Mammon, First Stop: Hot Springs Resort

I peek out of the window.

Outside, many lower demons are lounging about, chatting with each other, soaking up in black steaming pools, sharpening their claws and talons upon crystallized rocks, or simply moonbathing. Overall, the atmosphere is peaceful and relaxed.

MC: Now I see why Decimus sent you here, kitty.

The feather boa around my shoulders stirs.

Cat: Meow?

MC: These lower demons are **idle**. They need exercise.

The cat turns its charcoal gaze upon me. I get the impression that it's listening intently.

MC: They're not hunting or fighting, but simply bathing and lazing about. They're never going to evolve like this, and will dissolve back into Prime eventually.

MC: Your mission is to whip them into shape. Give them a run for their money. It's for the good of the Devildom.

Cat: Mrrow.

MC: Also, don't feel the need to get eaten by any of them. None of those slackers look worthy of eating you.

Mammon: Is this how a human is supposed to speak? Decimus is havin' a strange influence on ya.

The cat jumps off my shoulders and arches its back. For a moment, its entire form glows with eerie light.

MC: Go forth, kitty.

I open the carriage's door.

The cat jumps out with grace. Several lower demons turn their heads our way, but look away almost immediately.

MC: They don't even have a perimeter guard, or a patrol. Unbelievable.

MC: Teach them a lesson they won't soon forget.

Cat: **Meow**.

The cat saunters over to the nearest lower demon, who has his back turned to it. With a lightning-fast motion, the cat swipes its claws along the demon's thigh. The strike leaves deep, bleeding gashes in the demon's hide.

The demon emits an indignant yelp and jumps to his feet, whirling around to see who scratched him. But the cat is no longer there. With its tail high up in the air, the cat strolls among the lounging demons, delivering unseen strikes.

Within seconds, the air is filled with yelps of pain and exclamations of surprise. Confusion reigns as the demons are unable to pinpoint the culprit.

Two of the demons moonbathing next to each other start an argument. Apparently they each blame the other for the attack. And they're not the only ones. Growls are being heard.

For a moment, I wonder if these demons are hopeless enough to turn on each other.

But then a demon with a torn ear emerges out of a black pool, shakes himself off, and barks out an order.

All demons fall silent at once. Their heads are turning, noses sniffing. They're looking for the intruder.

MC: Oh, is that the pack leader?

Mammon: Looks like it.

MC: So this hot springs spa resort has someone **in charge**?

Before long, the demons discover the cat, who is sitting on one of the crystallized rocks, perfectly still, as though some fancy rock decoration, gazing at the demons from above, with a look of utter contempt in its charcoal eyes.

Yells of accusation are directed at the cat. In response, the cat lets out a mocking **yowl**.

MC: I wish I knew what they're talking about. I get the feeling that the cat is saying something interesting.

Mammon: "Surprise inspection, losers. The inspector is not impressed. Your battle prowess is in question."

Mammon: "The only way you can wash this shame off is by eatin' me."

MC: Oh, how nice, you can interpret!

Mammon: Piece of cake for the Great Mammon.

Several demons shift their eyes at our unmarked carriage, but they don't turn to look at us directly.

MC: Decimus' cat is surprisingly well-spoken. It even issued a formal challenge.

Mammon: This is an edited version. The original is mostly expletives.

The cat's declaration is met with more yells, hoots, squawk, and howls.

Mammon: "What inspection? You're makin' this up." "You're full of it." "The food speaks." "Nobody ever comes here." "This place is ours." "My thigh hurts, I'll eat ya." "The food walked in on its own, eat the intruder!" "You'll pay for this scratch on my butt." "Eat ya, tear ya to shreds!" "Hunt, hunt, hunt!"

MC: It's taking them surprisingly long to attack.

Mammon: They're hesitant because of our carriage. Not a whole lot of demons in the Abyss have a flyin' carriage. Most are relyin' on local portals, underground bubble tube, or ground transport.

Mammon: But those types of transports only work within the cities. The terrain is too rough between the cities. There are some areas in the Abyss where the ground can swallow a traveler whole. If there's no official portal here, nobody would ever come to this place. Nobody except the select few who have a flyin' carriage.

Mammon: These demons are wary of angerin' the cat's owner. So they're waitin' for the order.

Cat: **Meooow**.

Mammon: "Looosers. Eat me if you can."

The demon with a torn ear scowls. Then he crouches into an attacking position and lets out a piercing screech.

Mammon: "Eat the cat!"

All the demons swarm the cat at once. The solid mass of demons closes upon the cat, burying it underneath. A free-for-all ensures.

For a few moments, I can't see anything except the swarming demons. Then I spot a shimmering tabby tail.

MC: !

As I watch, the cat emerges unscathed out of the heap of demons, saunters off, jumps on another rock, and observes the swarm of demons from a high point, looking very unimpressed.

Mammon: "Did ya get it?" "Don't push, get off my paw!" "Did ya eat the cat?" "I think I ate something!" "Idiot, that's a rock." "My thigh hurts, get off." "Was the cat eaten?" "Both of ya, get your butts off my face, I can't see anythin'." "I got it, I got it!" "That's my tail you're chewin' on, I'll bite ya!" "Anyone got it?"

This goes on for a full minute. The cat starts washing itself to pass the time.

Finally, the pack leader extricates himself from the heap, breathless and disheveled, glances around frantically, spots the washing cat, and lets out a screech of outrage.

The swarm disassembles. Now the demons form smaller squads, and those squads start encircling the cat, who stops washing to regard them.

MC: They're finally using tactics. Took them long enough.

The cat waits for the encirclement to close around it, looking nonchalant.

This time, they don't all attack at once. The first squad approaches, while the cat is watching, its tail flicking.

Two demons lunge forward. At the last moment, the cat jumps aside, causing them to collide. The next squad is upon the cat, who dodges them with ease, leisurely delivering a scratch to a demon in the process. There is a frustrated yelp.

Mammon: "Not my thigh again!"

For the next half a minute, the cat is weaving through the disorganized squads gracefully and energetically, dodging all attempts to corner it, and scratching demons in the most vulnerable places.

MC: They're having trouble maintaining formation. It's because they can't stop themselves from reacting to the scratch. As soon as they're provoked, they lunge forward. That makes their movements easy to predict.

Mammon: They're lower ones, what did ya expect? The Great Mammon would never be played with like that. You won't see me chasin' a cat around!

Just then, I notice something. The cat seems to be avoiding the black pools.

The pack leader notices it at the same time as I do. He shouts an order, and the squads of demons start driving the cat towards the biggest pools.

Before long, the cat is cornered, with a large pool behind it, and squads flanking it on both sides. The pack leader steps forward.

MC: It's a duel!

The pack leader growls menacingly.

Mammon: "Prepare to be eaten, and serve as a proof of our ability before the inspector."

The cat responds with a chilling meow, its eyes glowing with sinister red light.

Mammon: "You're ten thousand years too early to eat me, unworthy one."

The demon and the cat lunge at each other.

The demon's long teeth glint in the moonlight. The cat's shimmering claws leave lighting-like afterimages in the air.

Their movements are too quick for me to follow.

MC: What's happened?

Mammon: The cat scratched his forehead.

He's right. The pack leader is bleeding from his forehead. Blood flows down into his eyes, blinding him. Meanwhile, the cat has jumped upon his back, and is in the process of shredding his shoulders.

MC: (This particular tactic... reminds me of something.)

MC: (I wonder if Decimus has imparted the knowledge of our duel onto the cat?)

The demon flings himself into the black pool. The cat jumps off him, but slips and steps on the edge of the pool in the process.

One of the cat's paws comes into contact with the black liquid. As soon as it happens, the paw dissolves into a shimmering vapor.

MC: !

MC: What's going on? Why did the spring cause that?

Mammon: Those hot springs must have some Prime in 'em. And this cat is just a Prime construct. It's not a demon, it doesn't even have a core. So its form is unstable. It becomes even more unstable at contact with Prime.

Mammon: This cat was gonna get dissolved in a few hours anyway. I told ya not to get attached to it.

MC: It's not over yet.

The demon emerges out of the pool, blood mixing up with black liquid. This time, he doesn't shake himself off. He's planning to use this liquid as a shield and a weapon.

The cat retreats to the highest crystal formation on the Plateau.

MC: (Now that one of its paws has dissolved, its speed has really decreased.)

The pack leader lets out a hoarse screech.

Mammon: "Open the floodgates!"

The demons dash to all four corners of the Plateau. They're dislodging huge rocks and flinging them aside. The level of liquid in the pools is rising.

Soon enough, the entire Plateau has turned into one huge pool.

The carriage raises up in the air. From above, I can see even clearer everything that's happening.

The pack leader swims up to the cat's perch, and strikes the crystallized pillar with his whole body. The pillar shakes and trembles.

The demon calls up to the cat, who is balancing on the pillar up above, its fur raised.

Mammon: "Be eaten by me, or be dissolved!"

The cat gives a look of pure contempt and superiority in return, followed by a mocking yowl.

Mammon: "Loser, a flawless creation like me will never become your food."

The cat moves to the edge of the pillar.

It's going to jump into the pool!

MC: Kitty!

I wrench the carriage door open and try to jump outside.

Mammon: Hold it!

Mammon grabs me by the collar from behind and drags me back in.

Mammon: Ya can't jump into that spring! Have ya forgotten that you're a human? It's too dangerous!

MC: Can't you teleport the cat back?

Mammon: Use magic directly on a Prime construct? That's as good as dissolvin' it!

MC: Then let me go — !

Mammon: **No**.

I could shake Mammon off if I **really** wanted to.

The problem is, I **really** don't want to do that.

What should I do?

MC: Nine!

As soon as I call his name, I remember that he's no longer next to me. We're not in the Aspire domain anymore.

Nine: Oou?

MC: ?!

To my astonishment, Nine pokes his head down from the roof of the carriage.

How did he get up there? Don't tell me he was riding on the roof all the way?

No matter, I can question him later.

MC: Save that cat!

Mammon: What do ya expect him to do against a whole pack? They'll tear him asunder before he even gets close.

Nine: Orrm.

The next moment, Nine lets out a petrifying **howl**.

My hair stands up on the back of my neck. All my thoughts vanish, driven out by the blood-curdling sound, a single, unbroken note that suspends time itself.

I can't move.

All lower demons freeze in the middle of the movement. The pack leader freezes. Even the cat, balancing precariously on the top of the pillar, freezes.

Nine is the only one who's moving.

He dashes off the carriage and into the flooded Plateau, leaping from rock to rock. Within seconds, he reaches the topmost pillar, grasps the cat in his mouth, and turns back.

Just then, the petrifying spell is broken.

The pack leader gives a screech of pure fury. All the demons echo his sentiment, and start chasing after Nine.

Nine is halfway through, but they have already half-closed the encirclement around him. At this rate, Nine is not going to make it back.

It was my fault for sending him there. Now I'm going to lose them both.

If only Mammon released his grip on me, I would be free to act. I can break from his grip, but I'd have to push him away.

**I can't do it.**

He has to be the one to let me go.

MC: Let me go. I'll bring them back myself!

Mammon: Sheesh, so much fuss over a cat!

There is a crackle of lightning, a familiar flare of teleportation spell, and Nine materializes inside the carriage, the nonchalant cat hanging out of his mouth.

MC: ?!

Oh. Mammon did that. He used the teleportation spell on Nine, bringing them both back.

Of course. Nine is a demon, not a construct. It's safe to use magic on him.

I was so focused on closing the distance with the opponent that I forgot all about that.

MC: Mammon, you saved them! You're a hero!

Mammon: !

Mammon: ...Yeah, yeah, what a pain.

MC: You're a genius!

Mammon: ?!

Mammon: What? I'm a WHAT?

Nine drops the cat into my waiting arms.

Cat: Mew.

Mammon: Of — of course I am! I'm the Great Mammon —

MC: Now, time to take revenge for the paw!

Mammon: ?!!

Mammon: Ya still want to fight them?!

Mammon hammers on the barrier separating us from the coachdemon.

Mammon: Go!

The carriage takes off abruptly from its hovering position, the inertia throwing me back against the pillows. Mammon slams the carriage door shut, the cat climbs back upon my shoulders into its former position, and Nine places his head on my lap.

MC: ...

I can't move like that. I'd have to push all of them off first.

Oh well, I don't **have** to fight right now. I could always come back later.

Our departure is accompanied by the many howls, hoots, and screeches of outrage.

I lean out of the window, give the lower demons below a wave, and toss out a handkerchief. Hopefully they'll be able to use it to remember my smell.

The pack leader leaps up and catches the handkerchief between his teeth before anyone else can get to it.

MC: See you later, slackers! Make sure you're better prepared for my inspection next time!

The howls below intensify by an order of magnitude.

The lower demons chase after us for a good five minutes, making an unholy amount of noise, before the carriage picks up speed, finally leaving them behind.


	78. An Outing With Mammon, Second Stop: Pavilion of Dark Delights

MC: Nine, you can't ride on the roof. It's dangerous. Here, you can sit next to me.

But Nine, under Mammon's scorching glare, prefers to hide himself under my seat.

I call Decimus, who picks up right away.

[MC: Decimus, we've visited the Dismal Plateau.]

[Decimus: Yes, I can hear the howls from here.]

[MC: Ahaha...]

[Decimus: Well done. They sound thoroughly entertained.]

[MC: I don't know if "entertained" is the right word. Frustrated and infuriated, maybe.]

Decimus gives a short laugh.

[Decimus: This is exactly what makes them so entertained.]

[Decimus: And it's not a bad thing for them to face their limits from time to time.]

[Decimus: This would motivate them to strive for more.]

[MC: It's fun to mess with them. Their reactions are so cute.]

Mammon: Ya always go overboard with provokin' demons.

[Decimus: I know the feeling.]

[Decimus: Have they discovered the vulnerability in the construct?]

[MC: Yes, they have. Decimus, one of the cat's paws is gone!]

[Decimus: Only just one paw?]

[Decimus: The rest of the construct is still here?]

Cat: **Meow**.

I can hear Decimus sigh.

[MC: How could I let them eat it? They haven't earned the honor. Decimus, those slackers don't even have a perimeter guard!]

[Decimus: A grave infraction, indeed.]

I can hear a smile in his voice.

[MC: If they fix their shortcomings, maybe they can have a second chance next time.]

[MC: Meanwhile, the paw —!]

[Decimus: Very well.]

[Decimus: I'll take a look at the paw later. For now, let us prevent the construct from dissolving.]

[Decimus: Try drawing the construct inside our talisman.]

[MC: Like this?]

I place one hand on the talisman, and the other on the cat. I try to apply the same process as when drawing out magic power into a container.

The cat turns into silvery vapour, which draws inside the talisman.

[MC: It worked!]

[Decimus: Very good.]

[Decimus: The talisman can preserve the construct indefinitely, so you don't have to worry about dissolution.]

[Decimus: And I was thinking of reworking the construct for the next trial run.]

[Decimus: Are you attached to a cat's shape in particular?]

[MC: It doesn't matter what shape it is. It will still be a flawless creation!]

[Decimus: Is that so.]

He is definitely smiling again.

Mammon: ...

[MC: What shape did you have in mind?]

[Decimus: I was thinking, maybe a rabbit. We can discuss it later, after you return.]

[MC: How are things on your end?]

[Decimus: I am almost done with mapping out the field.]

[Decimus: No reply from the King yet.]

[MC: All right, keep me updated.]

[Decimus: Certainly.]

I hang up, just as the carriage slows down again.

Coachdemon: We've arrived at the Delish Market.

I open the door and disembark the carriage. Mammon follows suit.

MC: Are you feeling well enough to walk?

Mammon: Of course I am. Don't ya worry about me.

Mammon: What are we shoppin' for?

MC: Sweets.

The sign over the building says, **Pavilion of Dark Delights**.

Mammon: Hey, what kind of establishment is that...?

MC: A confectionary, rather expensive one. Normally, I don't shop here. But now that the King has been kind enough to send me that card, it feels like a shame not to put it to use.

Mammon: I'll help ya carry things.

MC: As long as it doesn't tire you out. All right, chocolates first.

MC: I'll take Fell Fudge, Sumptuous Seduction, and Unrighteous Relish, in every variety.

Mammon: That's fifty boxes total! Are ya sure you'll be able to eat all that chocolate?

MC: They're not for me.

Mammon: !

Mammon: You're buyin' chocolate for **someone else**?

MC: That's right.

Mammon: Who is it for?

MC: Michael.

Mammon: Michael who?

Mammon: Wait, **archangel** Michael?

Mammon: Why would ya gift **him** chocolate?

MC: To thank him for acting as my second, of course.

MC: As an unrelated party, he didn't have to get involved in my trial. But he's been a great help regardless. In more ways than one.

That time, Michael declined to accept anything in return. But I think it was my fault for phrasing it like I did. Instead of asking him to name his price, I should've just presented him a gift without asking.

The problem is, I don't really know what he likes.

Well, except one thing. There is one thing I am reasonably confident about.

MC: Let's go to the second floor. We can choose a cake there.

Mammon: Fifty boxes of chocolate isn't enough?!

MC: Just to be on the safe side, I'm going to follow **the principle of a cake**.

Mammon: The principle of a cake? What kinda principle is that?

MC: Things cannot be made worse by the addition of a cake.

MC: The lack of a cake, however, can be a serious disappointment.

MC: Hence is the principle: **when in doubt, add a cake**.

We board the elevator to the second floor, Mammon balancing the pile of chocolate boxes in his arms.

Mammon: What makes ya think that Michael likes sweet things? Maybe he hates 'em.

MC: No, he definitively has a sweet tooth.

Mammon: How do ya know that? Did he tell ya? I thought the two of you only had time to discuss business.

MC: I know because of Luke.

Mammon: Luke told ya about Michael's likes and dislikes?

MC: He didn't have to. It's obvious.

MC: You know how Luke is always going on about learning to bake for Michael's sake?

Mammon: Oh...

MC: Yeah, so unless Luke is on a mission to torture Michael with the food he hates, I think it's safe to assume that Michael really likes desserts.

Mammon: So it was somethin' like that!

Mammon: You're right. Anyone can figure that out. Ya don't need to be on good terms with Michael to know that.

For some reason, Mammon looks relieved. I wonder if he has something against Michael?

The elevator doors open. The entire space before us is filled with presentations of various cakes.

MC: But you're right. I can't be certain that he's going to like the Devildom's sweets.

MC: I should just ask him directly.

Mammon: Ya still have his contact number...?

MC: I'm not sure. Let me check.

Hmm. The contact "WinglessOne" is gone from my list, but the number of my contacts didn't change.

Oh, it looks like "WinglessOne" has changed his name to "Michael." This must mean that there's no issue with his wings.

MC: His contact is still here. That's a relief!

Mammon: A **relief**?

Mammon: Are we talkin' about the same Michael?

MC: Of course.

We're strolling past rows upon rows of different cakes.

MC: All those cakes look delicious. It's hard to choose just one.

Mammon: This one smells really sweet.

MC: It looks sweet, too. And that one over there looks yummy too.

I snap a picture of both cakes, and send the pictures to Michael.

[MC: Which cake looks more delicious?]

I wonder if he's going to reply. Meanwhile, I'm going to keep browsing.

 _ding_.

[Michael: Both.]

MC: !

[Michael: I want the one decorated with lizards, too.]

The one decorated with lizards?

Oh. One of the pictures captured a side of a lizard-decorated cake too. I didn't even notice.

[MC: Sure.]

[MC: Is there anything else you'd like?]

[Michael: The Devildom's Wicked Berry is in season right now. Oh, and it should be about time for the honey, too.]

[Michael: Hold on, I'll send you the entire list.]

Mammon: Why are ya smilin'...? What is he sayin' to ya?

MC: He said he wants both.

Mammon: Geez, is it okay for an angel to be so unrestrained? How is he even gonna eat that much? Does he think he's Beel?

MC: He is an angel.

Mammon: I know he is. That's what makes it so strange.

MC: He has friends and co-workers.

Mammon: Yeah, I'm sure he does. Co-workers, for sure. Dunno about friends. From what I've heard, nobody gets along with him.

MC: He is a high-ranked angel. He has many friends and co-workers.

Mammon: Just what are ya gettin' at?

MC: What do you think all those friends and co-workers are going to do once they learn that he received a package of sweets from the Devildom?

Mammon: Ya sayin they'll all want a share?

MC: It's a possibility.

MC: I just want to make sure there is something left for him. Plus, I want him to have more things to choose from. This way, he's bound to find something he likes.

Mammon: If that's the case, Michael should just receive that package on the sly.

MC: He strikes me as someone who prefers to do things in the open.

Mammon: What if he shares your gift with no one, and eats everythin' himself?

MC: That'd be ideal. It would mean that he liked everything.

I wouldn't blame Michael for wanting to eat sweet things. After all, I have a similar inclination.

Sweets really help with magical exhaustion. Since my magical reserve is so low, I rely on props most of the time — amulets, talismans, power stones, artifacts. But from time to time, I do attempt to use my own reserves. I just can't help but keep trying.

It never ends well.

I remember once, in a world far removed from this one, I was practicing drawing an elementary circle, and I was feeling good about it, so on an impulse, I decided to activate it with my own magical power.

The next thing I knew, I was lying on the floor, barely clinging to consciousness. I couldn't focus. I couldn't move and break the active circle. It just kept drawing out my strength, effectively pinning me in place.

I know I should've called Solomon. He would've solved that in an instant. It didn't even matter if he placed a price on his help — anything's better than metaphysical damage from being destroyed in one of the worlds. But it was too shameful for words. An elementary circle, not even a trap, has completely incapacitated its own summoner. If he saw me in such a state, I don't think I could ever face him again.

So I called Mammon. I asked him to bring me candy, I think. I don't remember that conversation well. And only after I hung up, I remembered something. That world was home to Mammon's Reflection, and he had no reason to help me at all.

I was sure I was going to perish that time. Only, two minutes later, I found a crumpled box full of candies that someone pushed underneath my door, lying right next to my hand. And after I ate some, I finally recovered enough strength to extinguish that circle for good.

Ever since that circle fiasco, I don't go anywhere without a supply of power stones, and a candy stash.

Michael likely has never experienced something like that, but his wings sure consume a lot of power. He must be in recovery mode pretty often. The sweets could only help with that.

Although, for the one who wields the power of an Archangel, any help coming from candies is probably purely psychological.

 _ding_.

Mammon: That's Michael again, isn't it? What does he want **this time**?

MC: He sent me the entire list of things he wants. That's helpful.

Mammon: That's shameless!

MC: I like straightforward people. They're easy to deal with.

Mammon: !!

Mammon: Of course Michael would be straightforward. He doesn't need to plot or think. He can get whatever he wants just by brute-forcing it with his power and authority!

Mammon is gesturing in agitation.

MC: Watch out, the boxes —!

The pile of boxes in Mammon's arms is wobbling dangerously.

Mammon: Oh!

We barely manage to save the boxes of chocolates from flying all over the floor.

MC: You know, you don't have to carry them. The whole purpose of this trip is to give you time to recover from the rite. Straining yourself further isn't going to help with that.

Mammon: I told ya not to worry about that. They aren't even heavy, and I'm feelin' all better now. They're so light that I forgot for a moment that I had 'em.

MC: Still, they must be hard to balance. It's fine for you to simply accompany me. Let's have Nine carry those boxes back.

Mammon: **Nine**? No way, the one you have a pact with is **me**!

Not good, I have another irresistible urge to tease Mammon. I just can't restrain myself.

MC: Do you feel the need to be helpful because of the pact...?

MC: It's not supposed to influence your emotions, nor suppress your will.

A pact is different from soul control. It's not the same as wielding the grimoire. If you could use a pact to force a demon into doing something that goes directly against his will, then I wouldn't have ended up dead at Belphie's hands again after forming a pact with him. He broke through the restraints as soon as he sorted out his own confusion. The whole thing only works as long as the demon in question is being cooperative.

MC: Perhaps the pact is malfunctioning somehow? Shall we ask Solomon to take a look at it?

Mammon: No, wait — that's not what I meant! I'm not doin' it because of the pact. Don't call Solomon, he's still givin' me that scary bright smile whenever he sees me.

MC: (That... might be my fault.)

Mammon: I'm helpin' ya because I want to. If the Great Mammon truly doesn't want to do somethin', there's no one in this multiverse who could force him!

MC: (What an unusually straightforward statement.)

MC: Ooh, is that so? Good to know.

MC: So then, **the witches** —

Mammon: D'AAAAH, look at that cake with plums over there! Looks delicious, doesn't it?!

MC: ...

MC: (He walked right into that one.)

MC: (Well, it's none of my business who he allows to entertain him, and how. I don't even know why I brought that up. He has his needs, just like I do. And compared to mine, his games are almost innocent.)

MC: (He's right, I can't resist playing with fire. And I even ended up dragging an unrelated angel into my mess.)

I'm watching Mammon, who is making a show of examining the plum cake.

MC: (Since Mammon doesn't want to discuss the witches, I'll let it go.)

MC: (This version of him looks pretty happy and content with his life as it is. No doubt because Lucifer is here.)

MC: (There is always his Reflection, though. That one lives on his own.)

Maybe I should sneak out to check on Mammon's Reflection again. Just to make sure that he didn't run out of rent money again, and didn't go back to work in that strip club. Maybe a haunting or two is in order, just to set him on the straight and narrow...

MC: Yeah, the plum cake looks delicious too. Sour makes a nice palate contrast with all the sweet. It's good for a change of pace.

Mammon: Oi, what's with that look in your eyes? You're plottin' somethin'!

MC: !

Mammon is looking directly into my eyes.

Mammon: Just so ya know, I haven't been to the human world in months!

MC: ...How come?

Mammon: After I failed that final exam, Lucifer has been on my case, and I've had to study non-stop all nights long. He says that if I end up repeatin' a year, he will flay me alive!

Mammon: So I can't go and answer the summons from the witches. I just send 'em the money each month.

MC: Surely, they must have complained about it.

Mammon: Even if they complain, there's nothin' I can do. Lucifer has put an inter-realm anti-summonin' seal upon my name, and he's not takin' it off until I pass the exam. Insurmountable circumstances beyond my control!

Mammon spreads his arms and shrugs.

Mammon: So, I told 'em, if they have a problem with that, go and complain to Lucifer.

MC: ...

Since he's actually asked Lucifer for help, that means he's serious about not wanting to answer their call.

MC: Fine, I'll let you off the hook.

For now.

I reach out and mess his hair. He ducks his head, as the pile of chocolate boxes sways precariously.

Mammon: Sheesh, you're always messin' with me like that!

MC: Since you're full of energy, let's go to the third floor and look for the Wicked Berry. Maybe you could help me with the tasting.

A notification sounds on my D.D.D.

[Summer is coming. Attend the solstice fair for spells exchange!]

Oh. The solstice fair. Solomon is sure to be there.

I am not completely prepared to face him yet. I haven't even deciphered the meaning behind his scroll.

Then again, where Solomon is concerned, I am never prepared.


	79. An Outing With Mammon, Final Stop: A Surprise Flash Sale

Once back in the carriage, I call Decimus again.

[MC: A truck with sweets should be arriving at your door soon. I ordered some desserts for Michael.]

[Decimus: I see.]

He sounds a little deadpan.

[Decimus: I'll make arrangements to let it through the gates.]

[MC: ...It's not against the rules or anything?]

[Decimus: No. It's normal practice to send gifts to your second, especially to the one who assisted you directly.]

[Decimus: Although it's mostly done to bribe the second into joining in on your side during the next duel as well...]

[MC: I'm not planning on having another duel in the immediate future.]

[Decimus: Hearing that is a great relief to me.]

[Decimus: Wait, humans have a different idea of "immediate future", don't they? Because of their shorter lifespan.]

[Decimus: Are you talking about something like mere **years**?]

[MC: I can't predict what's going to happen that far ahead!]

[MC: No, I'm talking about something like **days**.]

[Decimus: My relief is gone completely.]

[MC: I am sorry to hear that. But, I have a favor to ask of you...]

[Decimus: As long as it's not about you leaving me, I'll grant you anything you desire.]

[MC: I've been wondering what's the best way to deliver that truck of sweets to Michael...]

[Decimus: Ah, I see.]

[Decimus: With great apprehension, I must ask you this question: have you already considered any avenues of delivery?]

MC: (With **great apprehension**? He's getting more dramatic by the minute.)

But I have to admit that he's right.

[MC: I kinda have.]

[MC: I don't think there are any normal trading routes established between the Devildom and the Celestial Realm...]

[Decimus: You are correct.]

[MC: So, I was thinking of using one of the Coven's smuggling routes. But considering Michael's identity and position...]

[Decimus: Indeed.]

[Decimus: As much as I feel a **morbid fascination** at the idea of human smugglers illegally delivering a truck of Devildom sweets to the Celestial Head of the Department of Judgement in a **historically blatant** act of violation of all laws and regulations...]

MC: ...

[Decimus: ...I truly don't think this is what Diavolo had in mind when he created his vision of harmony and cooperation between the Three Realms.]

I stepped right on Diavolo's vision again. I just keep doing that.

[Decimus: An official courier would be more appropriate.]

Decimus is a bit of a stickler for rules, isn't he.

[MC: Can you arrange one?]

[Decimus: As it happens, there is no need.]

[Decimus: Just a few minutes ago, Michael texted me about some destroyed paperwork regarding the trial that needs to be redone and requires my signature.]

[Decimus: He is sending his messenger here with the new papers. Simeon, I believe.]

[Decimus: We can use that messenger to deliver your truck of sweets to the Celestial Realm.]

MC: (I'm sorry, Simeon. Because of me, you ended up a delivery man again.)

[MC: What happened to the paperwork on Michael's side? How did it get destroyed?]

[Decimus: He did not specify.]

[Decimus: At first, I didn't think much of it. It's nothing new. Even back then, he was always misplacing his paperwork. Sometimes burning it to ashes, sometimes chucking it out the window in a fit of frustration. Despite his great attention to detail, he is simply not suitable for office work, and he's always out in the field. Frankly, I can't believe he ended up in administration.]

[Decimus: When I heard from you about **the truck of sweets** , however, I saw the destruction of paperwork in a new light.]

[MC: Ahaha...]

Mammon: Oi. You've been chattin' way too long. We're almost at the black market.

[MC: This is our final stop. We're going to look for Banesroot. After a quick stroll through the black market, we're going back.]

[MC: Any word from the King yet?]

[Decimus: Not yet.]

[Decimus: When he responds, I'll let you know right away.]

I hang up.

Coachdemon: We've arrived at the Unmarked Junction.

Before disembarking, I lower my hood. Mammon ties a bandana like a face mask. Personally, I think it's a futile effort — even with a mask, he is very recognizable. But formalities need to be observed.

Mammon: Let's check the First Warehouse. They always have the most recent deals.

MC: Good idea.

Mammon: Don't get your hopes up, though. This season, there's almost no chance of findin' Banesroot anywhere.

MC: I know.

Mammon: This way.

The First Warehouse is built more like a fortification, with extremely sturdy walls.

Announcer: Flash sale! Get BANESROOT at the First Warehouse! BANESROOT, at a low cost of only THRICE the market price!

MC and Mammon: ?!

A horde of demons is already stampeding past us toward the First Warehouse.

Mammon: I'm goin' in!

MC: Wait, you can't —

Mammon: (whoosh)

MC: — strain yourself!

Mammon is gone like the wind, boring into the horde of demons sieging the First Warehouse.

MC: (There he goes. I hope he doesn't end up hurt in the crowd.)

MC: (I can't believe there is a flash sale of Banesroot. Exactly what we need, exactly when we're here. What are the chances?)

MC: (This luck is **too improbable** to be a mere coincidence.)

 _riiing_.

My D.D.D. is ringing. It's Decimus.

I pick up.

[Decimus: I just received a reply from the King.]

[Decimus: The meeting with Diavolo is set for tomorrow midday.]

[Decimus: I'll feel better once I see you. Come back as soon as you can.]

He hangs up.

MC: (Decimus sounds a bit agitated, and he even requested my presence directly. He probably didn't expect the meeting to happen so soon.)

MC: (We better return quickly.)

MC: (How's Mammon doing? I can't see him in the crowd.)

Voice: Hello.

MC: ?!

Slowly, I turn around.

A demon stands behind me, wearing a cloak and a mask. But even with this disguise, there is no mistaking his identity.

MC: (Why is **Diavolo** here?!)

Diavolo: I was hoping to speak to you for a moment.

I was hoping for exactly the opposite!

I only just barely managed to drive Diavolo out of my mind. But seeing him in person brought all the memories of the last night right back again.

Fortunately, he's wearing a mask, so I can't see his face too clearly.

Just as I'm thinking that, Diavolo takes off his mask, giving me a clear view of his face.

MC: (Please don't do that!)

Diavolo: Much better. I'm not used to this thing.

MC: ...

I don't even want to imagine what expression I have on my face right now.

Instinctively, I pull my hood even lower, to obscure my face. At least this way, even if I'm staring at him, he won't be able to tell.

MC: What did you want to talk about?

Diavolo: My meeting with Decimus has been arranged for tomorrow midday. I see you've managed to meet my deadline, and I greatly appreciate that.

I didn't really do anything to make it happen. The King is the one who decided the time.

Naturally, I'm not about to mention that.

MC: So, the flower, as agreed...

Diavolo: I'll bring the mirage flower with me to the meeting.

MC: It better not have withered!

Diavolo: Of course not. The flower has been getting the most meticulous care. It is in perfect condition.

It looks like I'm finally getting that flower back.

MC: ...

It's almost over. Once I have the flower, I won't have a reason to see Diavolo again.

This might be the last time we speak in person.

This makes me feel...

MC: I'm relieved.

Diavolo: ...

MC: Shouldn't you be preparing for the meeting right now?

Diavolo: This is exactly why I wanted to see you.

Diavolo: The meeting is tomorrow. It's **so soon** , but...

Diavolo: I don't know what to wear to the meeting.

Diavolo: Could you help me choose my outfit?

MC: ?!

I just heard something extremely strange. Please tell me he's joking?!

Somehow I manage to reply, although my voice sounds strained.

MC: Why don't you ask **Barbatos** to help you with that?

Diavolo: Unfortunately, I sent Barbaros off on a mission just a few days ago. He won't be able to return in time for the meeting.

Must be why I didn't run into Barbatos last night, when I teleported right into Diavolo's bedchambers.

Now that I've calmed down enough to think, Diavolo's request doesn't sound so outlandish.

The purpose of this meeting is to paint Diavolo's portrait. The outfit is extremely important. Decimus has no intention of talking to Diavolo, but he'll have no choice but to look at him.

Sometimes, just looking is enough. It's enough to entrap a soul.

Of course, Diavolo could always come to the meeting in his true form. But I bet Decimus has already seen his true form many times. It won't have the same effect on Decimus as it did on me, when I saw Diavolo for the first time.

Which is a little disappointing, since I'd rather subject Decimus to the same shock as I experienced myself, for fairness sake, but...

Their meeting, and how it goes, and how they both feel about it, is really none of my business.

This whole matter has nothing to do with me.

MC: I'm not qualified to recommend a formal outfit for an official painting. I don't really know anything about the Devildom's style.

Diavolo: You're the closest person to Decimus right now. You know how he feels, and what he thinks. There's no one better qualified than you to make such a recommendation.

Diavolo: His preferences have been described as a volatile blend of traditional and innovative, practical and aesthetical, but nobody can give me any details on it, and I am not sure how to best meet his demands.

Diavolo: I am worried that if I make a single mistake, he will send me away without even letting me through his door.

Diavolo: It's happened before. Countless times. Even though I sought advice from various sources, all well versed in everything regarding the Devildom.

That's because Decimus was just looking for an excuse not to meet Diavolo. I doubt he would turn Diavolo away based on his choice of outfit now. He's made up his mind about the meeting.

I think.

MC: ...

Well, I can understand Diavolo's worries, considering. And now that I take a closer look...doesn't it look like Diavolo is nervous?

I don't really like seeing him so ill at ease...It's so much better when he's happy and having fun.

Diavolo: You're the only one who can get me through his door.

That might be true. And after all, I already got involved in this, so I might as well see it through to the end.

Diavolo smiles.

MC: !

Diavolo: Will you help me?

MC: (Oh, come on! Get a grip, he's just smiling!)

MC: S-sure, I'll help!

He beams. He looks so happy...

Yes. This is **much better**.

Involuntary, I start smiling as well.

Diavolo: Excellent. Meet me at Majolish in an hour.

Why does he have such an **adorable smile**?

MC: Sure, I'll be there!

Diavolo: I can't wait!

Diavolo puts his mask back on, and melts into the shadows.

I am left standing there, shock-still.

A full minute passes before I regain possession of my senses.

 **What. Just. Happened**?

This isn't even the first time...!

Mammon: I got it!

MC: !

I turn to see Mammon hauling a large sack of something, with a triumphant look about him.

Mammon: I got the Banesroot they had on sale!

I take stock of his appearance. He doesn't look winded, but his clothes suffered some damage. Someone's claw sliced clean through the sleeve on his left arm.

MC: Good job.

MC: Now that we have what we want, let's hurry back. We can drop off the Banesroot later. Right now, there is something more urgent to deal with.

Mammon: Did somethin' happen? There's somethin' off about ya.

MC: I am fine.

MC: The meeting between Diavolo and Decimus is arranged for tomorrow.

Mammon: !

MC: We're returning to the Aspire domain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fasten your seat belts, dear passengers, Diavolo joins the game! And he's not shy about using his home field to his advantage. >:)


	80. A Get-Worse Card

I call out to the coachdemon.

MC: Back to the Aspire, and take the shortest route.

Mammon: Wait, let's circle around the market. There's a VIP portal on the other end I have access to. It can be used as a shortcut. This way we can shop a bit and return even faster.

MC: Good idea. Let's go this way.

The carriage takes off.

MC: Show me your arm, Mammon.

Mammon: What, this? This is nothin'.

MC: If it's nothing, then there's no reason to hide it.

MC: **Let me see**.

Mammon: Okay, okay.

I take his proffered arm and peel off the sliced sleeve.

Mammon: ...

MC: As I thought.

There is a long scratch on his arm, and it's already red and swelling.

Mammon: I'm tellin' ya, it's not a big deal. This will heal on its own.

Mammon: Whoa, why do you have a **first aid kit**?

MC: (I only have about **two hundred** of those.)

I take a picture of the scratch.

Mammon: Why are ya takin' a picture of it...?

I ignore the question.

MC: The scratch needs to be disinfected.

I apply a magic purifier (just in case the claw that scratched him was Cursed), then a potion antidote (just in case the claw was venomous), then a generic healing ointment, and finish up with wrapping a bandage around his arm.

Mammon: You're pretty good at this.

Lots of practice on myself.

MC: Did you see the one who scratched you?

Mammon: What are ya gonna do if I say yes...?

MC: **Answer the question**.

Mammon: Whoa, no need to use the pact over somethin' like this!

Mammon: I'll tell ya, I'll tell ya! Don't pull on me!

MC: Speak.

Mammon: He was wearin' a hood, so I didn't see much of his face, just cat-like eyes. Don't ya go plottin' an act of revenge or somethin'.

MC: Do you at least remember how it happened?

I don't often see the demon brothers injured. The force that needs to be applied to cause a visible damage is considerable. It can't be caused by a mere scuffle in a crowd. Certainly it can't happen by accident.

Mammon: Some mid-ranker grabbed my arm just before I left the crowd. But he didn't go for the sack I carried. He was just tryin' to delay me.

Mammon: I sliced his hand twice before throwin' him off, so we're even.

I let out a sigh.

MC: You went on a trip to recover your strength, and came back wounded.

Mammon: You're exaggeratin'. This is just a scratch.

MC: Even though you were with me...Actually, it's **because** you were with me.

MC: Lucifer will have my head when he learns about this.

Mammon: Lucifer doesn't need to know. I'm not comin' back to the House of Lamentation yet.

Mammon: And even if he knew, he wouldn't —

MC: I'm sure he's already upset because of what happened to Satan.

MC: I know I am.

Mammon: ...

MC: Oh, stop here!

I buy a stack of cards from a shady-looking salesdemon.

Mammon: These are get-worse cards!

Mammon is staring at the cards in my hands.

Mammon: You're thinkin' of sendin' one to Satan?

MC: Yeah, I thought of including one with the sack of Banesroot you bought, and sending the whole package to him anonymously.

Mammon: Ya sure about that?

MC: Why? You think it's a bad idea?

Mammon: No, I think it's great. But, these are get-worse cards, ya know? As a human, can ya really write one?

MC: Sure I can!

I am, of course, aware of the distinction. When humans are weakened, they draw strength from support and attention of their family and friends. When demons are weakened, however, they are invigorated by the taunts of their enemies.

I am not entirely clear on how it works, but basically, a proper death threat causes a surge of adrenaline, which unlocks the hidden reserves and healing powers deep within their bodies.

MC: Good, these cards are Cursed. The Curse is pretty standard, but it's enough to pose a bit of a challenge to Satan and entertain him without actually causing any harm.

MC: Undoing the Curse should distract him for a minute from brooding about his broken horn.

MC: And there's even a spell to mask the sender's aura and handwriting, to keep it truly anonymous. This is perfect.

I take out a quill.

Mammon: Ya know how to do this?

MC: Sure. I just need to write everything **in reverse**.

I start writing.

"Dear Satan,

"I was overjoyed to hear from the rumor mill that you had your horn broken during a trial by combat. Please accept my most sincere felicitations.

"I've also heard from a trusted source that you have refused your doctor's recommendations, and decided to bear with the increased irritation caused by the slower regrowth of your horn instead, to the point where you are now unable to switch out of your true form. This is most joyous news indeed, and it fills my heart with great cheer and glee at the dark prospects of such reckless behavior.

"I am including a sack of Banesroot as my get-worse gift to you. I have heard from another trusted source that eating Banesroot is good for regrowing horns, and many tasty dishes can be made with it.

"I hope, from the depth of my heart, that you will dispose of my gift without opening it, that you won't cook any dishes with it, and that you will most certainly not eat them.

"It is my most sincere wish for your recovery to stall or reverse, due to your own unusually childish behavior and stubbornness. I am looking forward to your irritation building up until you finally snap and attack your own brothers.

"Simply thinking about such an outcome, where your entire family perishes because of that trial by combat which has already passed, fills my heart with such endless delight that I can barely take it.

"As for you, to think that your own destiny will be cut short and go unfulfilled is too wonderful to contemplate. I am ecstatic at the idea that you're going to leave this world and miss out on the "Prison of the Heart" art exhibition that you were looking forward to, as well as the "Lost Archive" ancient book society gathering that takes place later this year.

"Not to mention other countless wonderful things that will come and go without you, too meaningless in their empty beauty when not lit up by the fire of hatred your presence ignites within my heart.

"In short, to think of a world without you, it is simply blissful beyond any words.

"I can't wait for you to perish so that I can bring flowers to your grave!

"With endless hatred and loathing, forever yours,

"Your Secret Admirer."

MC: Here, have a read.

I show the card to Mammon, who reads it carefully.

MC: What do you think? Passable?

Mammon: Yeah, it's pretty good.

Mammon: I wish I had my arm **broken** , rather than **scratched** , so that I could receive a **card like that**.

MC: Don't say such unlucky things! Also, did I write too much...? 

Mammon: If Satan refuses to eat Banesroot after readin' all that, the others will **bite him to death** first, out of pure jealously.

MC: (From Mammon's reaction, I definitely wrote too much. I don't really know how to tone it down, however.)

Mammon: But that **"forever yours"** part is unnecessary.

MC: Oh. That's just slipped.

Mammon: And what's up with "admirer"? Isn't it supposed to be **in reverse**? You should sign it as "your enemy" or somethin'.

MC: Nice catch!

I cross out "admirer" and write "adversary" instead.

Mammon: That "admirer" is still visible if you look closely. Cross it out properly.

I add more ink on top of the word, until it's blotted out completely.

Mammon: Good. Now ya can't tell what word was there at all.

Mammon: Also, about that **"forever yours"** part...

MC: I'm leaving that in. Enemies can also be forever.

Mammon scowls, but does not press the issue.

I seal the card, activating the Curse, and add it to the sack.

MC: Nine.

The carpet under my feet stirs. Nine's glittering eyes are looking up at me.

MC: Take this sack and drop it off at the House of Lamentation.

MC: Don't let them see you, and if you're caught, don't say anything about me.

Nine: Orrm.

I open the door of the moving carriage. Nine takes the sack carefully in his mouth, and vanishes on the spot.

Mammon: That stealth ability of his is pretty useful.

MC: At least wait until he evolves in rank before involving him in your reckless ventures. A lower demon will not be able to bear Lucifer's wrath.

Mammon: Hmph. I guess I can wait. I'll just view him as an investment.

On our way to the portal, we make several more brief stops.

I purchase a whole package of instant noodles with hell-sauce flavor in a discreet wrapping with numerous warnings on the over, "FRAGILE, DO NOT SUBMERGE, DO NOT SET ON FIRE, DO NOT CURSE". This should be enough to hide it from the auto-chef.

Mammon buys a treasure map, which is almost certainly fake, but it lifts his mood to contemplate all the riches he's going to find by following it, and he can't stop smiling happily (at least for now), so I consider that money well spent.

While Mammon is perusing his map, I am contemplating the highly fortuitous Banesroot flash sale, and the subsequent meeting with Diavolo.

No matter how I look at it, I keep reaching the same conclusion: Diavolo arranged that flash sale just so he could remove Mammon from the scene temporarily and speak to me one-on-one.

But why go through all the trouble? Sure, he could learn about Banesroot just by reading my chat with Decimus (I am aware of that spy feature not being exclusive to me), but he would also need to find some Banesroot on a very short notice and add it to the black market as well.

That seems too much effort for a single conversation. Surely, there are easier ways.

I mean, yes, I would've certainly refused his request if he didn't make it in person...

I remember that smile of his.

MC: (...It's better not to remember it.)

It worries me that I can't bring myself to refuse Diavolo's requests. Whatever power he holds over me, I want to know its exact nature, and how to cancel it.

MC: ...

I didn't want to bother Luke with these things, especially now that he's preparing for his manifestation ceremony, but it seems I have no choice. I need advice urgently.

The problem is, how to keep this particular conversation a secret from Diavolo?

There has to be a time when he is unable to check his D.D.D. If I talk to Luke during that time, he won't be able to read it.

I send a message to Asmo.

[MC: When are you having another Council meeting?]

[Asmodeus: A meeting starts in just about ten minutes!]

[MC: Everyone will be there?]

[Asmodeus: Everyone except Mammon. He's been exempted from meetings until further notice.]

[MC: Even Diavolo will be there?]

[Asmodeus: Of course! We can't start a Council meeting without the Head of the Council.]

Diavolo said he will meet me in an hour, but he's still having another meeting this close to the appointed time...

Leaving no room for **emergencies** could easily lead to **broken appointments**. Which of course would be a **great shame** if it happens.

I am smirking.

[MC: He sure has a packed schedule. Is it really the time to be having regular Council meetings?]

[Asmodeus: UGH, I know, right? Everyone is very excited about what happens tomorrow in the Aspire domain, but it's business as usual with Diavolo. Even his expression is the same. He doesn't seem too anxious to start preparations for his date with Decimus. That's a lot of confidence.]

[MC: In that case, let's give him even less time to prepare. Try to stretch out this Council meeting as long as you can.]

[Asmodeus: How very devious of you!]

[MC: Will you do this for me, Asmo?]

[Asmodeus: Anything for you, my dear. ❤ Whatever you're plotting, leave delaying Diavolo here to us!]

[MC: Send me a message when the meeting starts, okay?]

[Asmodeus: Yes, my darling. ❤ I'll keep you updated!]

[MC: ♡]

Asmo sends me a kiss sticker.

Mammon: — I wonder what the treasure will be? Gold or gemstones? Or maybe —

The carriage passes through the portal, and emerges right next to the gates of the Aspire domain.

I can immediately see a familiar truck of sweets parked next to the gates. And next to the truck stands Simeon.

MC: (He's already here...)

Simeon is gazing at the truck with an unusually dark expression on his face.

MC: (He looks so done. I **knew** he wouldn't want to be the courier.)

Let's just get out of here before he notices us and go in through the southern gates instead...

Mammon: YO, SIMEON!

MC: !

MC: (Mammon, read the scary mood a little! Where's your instinct of self-preservation?)

Simeon turns to look at us.


	81. An Angel's Complaints

Simeon: Mammon?

Faced with Mammon who's exited the carriage, Simeon contorts his face into something that vaguely resembles a friendly expression.

This further enhances the aloof and forbidding air around him. But Mammon seems oblivious, which is actually impressive.

Mammon: I didn't know ya were back here.

Simeon: I'm only visiting briefly on official business. I must return soon.

Resigned to my fate, I exit the carriage too. Simeon's gaze turns to me, and he falls silent.

MC: Hi.

Simeon: Hello.

MC: ...

Simeon: ...

This freezing atmosphere is really uncomfortable...

Mammon has finally realized something's off.

Mammon: Gotta check out the route on this treasure map real quick before Decimus learns that I'm back. See ya later!

MC: (Mammon, you coward! Don't leave me alone with him!)

In the blink of an eye, Mammon is gone, and I'm left alone with Simeon.

MC: ...

Simeon: ...

As usual, when at a loss for how to deal with interpersonal relationships, I default to business mode.

MC: I'm sorry you had to come back here on such a short notice. But, thank you for coming.

MC: I had no idea how to best deliver this truck to Michael, and I was considering using the Coven's smuggling routes.

Simeon: !!

Simeon: Fortunately I've come here. My trip has prevented such a **catastrophe**.

MC: A **catastrophe**? Surely, this is an exaggeration.

Simeon: Ever since it's been...stipulated...that a smuggled artifact caused the theft of Michael's wings...

MC: ...

Simeon: ...one thing led to another, and there's a crackdown on smuggling routes happening in the Celestial Realm right now.

Simeon: The Inquisitors are patrolling the streets, all the artifacts are being inventoried, there's a new curfew, and I haven't been taken into custody for interrogation only because of Michael's direct interference.

It sounds like Simeon has been having a hard time.

MC: Michael must value you a lot, if he interfered on your behalf. And he even sent you here as his messenger. Other than Luke, who is busy with his manifestation, you must be the only one he trusts to deal with the Devildom matters. He's relying on you.

Simeon scowls. This is the first time I see an actual scowl on his face.

Simeon: Sometimes I wish he'd rely on me **a little less**.

MC: ...

I guess he **really** didn't want to come back here.

MC: Personally, I'd prefer it if the Celestial ambassador was you, rather than some unfamiliar angel.

MC: But I understand why you wouldn't want to deal with me, after all that has transpired.

Simeon's gaze flickers to my face, then away.

Simeon: No, that's not what I meant. I don't mind coming here, if only to **get away from Michael** for a while.

MC: (That's a relief. So I am not the one causing his foul mood?)

I relax a little.

MC: (I think Simeon wants to vent about Michael. I wouldn't mind listening to Celestial gossip. I could learn some new and interesting information.)

MC: Michael must be difficult to work under.

Just look at Michael's diagram of virtues. He is someone who has almost zero Patience and Humility, not to mention his low Kindness. He must be demanding of his subordinates.

Simeon: You can say that again.

Simeon: Ever since he's gotten his wings back, he's been **insufferable**.

Simeon: He feels the need to go out and flaunt his improved wings in front of everyone, and I had to set up an entire arena with spectators where he can show off his wings, under the pretense of giving Luke flying lessons.

MC: !

MC: Michael has been **giving Luke flying lessons**? That's so lucky!

I'm jealous. I want flying lessons with Michael too!

I mean, I don't have any wings...But still, even theoretical knowledge would be fascinating!

Simeon: Well, I can't deny that. Normally, Michael almost never gives lessons. He has no interest in guiding the younger generation, because of his extremely low Patience. He is, I think, worried about saying or doing something discouraging.

MC: It's such a shame. He was so good at explaining things to me. He shares a lot of practical information that you can't find anywhere else. And he was extremely meticulous while arbitrating my trial.

Simeon: You're not wrong about that. For things such as mentoring and arbitrating, he uses his public persona, but it's extremely tiring for him to maintain. It does prevent him from lashing out at his pupils and the general populace. And to my knowledge, he's never broken that facade, although only he knows what it costs him.

Simeon: He doesn't bother maintaining his facade in front of his **direct subordinates** , however.

Simeon scowls again.

MC: ...

I think Michael isn't the only one who has trouble maintaining his facade in the Celestial Realm.

MC: If the Inquisitors annoy you too much, you can always come live here in the Aspire domain.

MC: I'm sure Michael will come to appreciate you even more once he loses you for a while.

MC: What do you say?

Simeon's expression wavers between amusement and disbelief.

Simeon: ...I am not sure whether you're seriously trying to recruit me over to the dark side...

MC: Of course, I am serious.

MC: I own one third of the future Aspire city. You can have any house on my territory, as long as it adheres to Decimus' blueprints.

MC: The general construction will begin in earnest in two weeks, once things settle down.

MC: You know Aspire is neutral ground, it's not officially Devildom territory, so you won't have to lose your status as an angel in order to live here. You can be the first invited Aspire citizen within my domain.

MC: Just consider living here as an extended vacation in your summer house.

Simeon: ...I'll keep that in mind.

I can tell he's not taking me seriously at all. Still, his expression has relaxed a little, and the air around him has softened. The idea of escaping his responsibilities for a while probably entertains him, even if it's just a fantasy.

MC: Speaking of Michael's wings... How does he like the **sapphire feather**?

Simeon: He says he disapproves, but he's still shown it off to everyone in the Celestial Realm within the span of twenty-four hours.

Simeon: Everyone is speculating about the meaning of that feather.

MC: Oh, I know the meaning of it.

MC: Want me to tell you?

Simeon: I'm not sure I want to know...

I can tell that his mood has improved considerably, although I'm not sure what has caused that.

He is curious about the feather, that much is clear.

MC: You'll be the only angel to know the actual meaning. Everyone else can only guess.

MC: Even Luke doesn't know. Decimus told it to me only.

MC: If you don't tell anyone else, **even Michael won't know for sure**.

Simeon: ...All right. Tell me.

MC: Since Michael was the first angel to take part in an Infernal trial by combat as a second, and interfere in the battle directly as tradition demands, Decimus gave him that **sapphire feather** to mark him as an **honorary demon**.

Simeon shudders visibly.

Simeon: Please, don't ever speak such words aloud ever again.

Simeon: I'm sure many already suspect something along these lines, but hearing it spoken makes it more real.

Simeon: Michael has already been too excited by the Aspire trial and all the diplomatic prospects that it opens, and it made him extremely hard to deal with. I don't want to imagine how much more amped up he'd become if he hears this.

MC: Maybe a few sweets will put him in a mellower mood.

Simeon: **A few,** is it?

Simeon's gaze turns towards the truck again.

MC: ...Originally, I was only going to pick a few, but it's so difficult to choose among all those delicious things, especially when not constrained by a budget.

MC: Before I knew it, the whole truck was filled.

MC: I hope Michael won't mind that there are a bit too many.

Simeon: Oh, no. He won't **mind**.

Simeon: Ever since he's heard about the delivery, he's been boasting about **the tribute** to everyone who would listen.

A tribute?

I had no idea that Michael liked that sort of thing. This is good to know.

MC: Would you be able to transport it easily, or should I ask Decimus to pack it into something more portable for you?

Simeon: That won't be a problem.

Simeon takes out a scroll and unfolds it. The truck transforms into a ball of light, which is drawn into the scroll. Simeon folds the scroll up and pockets it.

MC: (That's convenient.)

Now that the business is over and done with, I am once again at a loss for what to say. Simeon isn't helping me either — he is silent again.

Although, it's unusual...Normally he would just end the conversation before it has a chance to turn awkward. It's a relief that he's willing to stay regardless of the tense atmosphere...

I make a feeble effort to breach the silence.

MC: So...how are...things?

Oh, very smooth, that's a great opening. I don't even know what I'm trying to say.

Simeon: I don't think this is the best place to discuss it...

MC: Y-yeah, how about you come back in?

I gesture at the gates of the Aspire domain.

MC: I bet you're tired from the trip. Did Decimus offer you any refreshments?

Simeon: Decimus didn't let me in.

MC: **What**?

MC: What about your paperwork?

Simeon: One of his guards came out to take it, then brought it back signed.

MC: ...

I bet Simeon's foul mood could at least partially be attributed to this inhospitable treatment.

MC: Don't blame Decimus too much. Right now is a difficult time for him, and I'm sure he didn't want to subject you to his volatile temper.

MC: Some of his mood swings can be a little fatal.

MC: Let's go in, I know where the kitchen is. It should be fine with me there.

MC: All right?

Simeon: I suppose...

At last, Simeon gives me a reluctant smile.

 _ding_.

Hm? That's not my D.D.D. Was it Simeon's?

Simeon makes no motion to check his message. His expression hardens again.

MC: Shouldn't you check that...?

Simeon: I already know who that is.

Simeon: I'm afraid I can't stay any longer. I should be getting back.

MC: Wait, at least tell me how Luke is doing!

Simeon pauses. He must be remembering the last time we had a conversation about Luke, and all the subsequent mayhem that ensured.

Simeon: Luke...gave me a thorough talking to, and he's explicitly forbidden me to tell you anything about his troubles.

MC: !

MC: **Troubles**? What sort of troubles is Luke having?

 _ding_.

Simeon: (Can't Michael **wait a little**? I still haven't run out of the allotted time!)

MC: Does Luke have any issues with the Inquisitors? With his flying lessons? With his purification —

Simeon: !

MC: It's the **purification** , isn't it?

I really didn't expect any issues to arise there!

MC: How hard can it really be? It's just **taking a bath** , isn't it?

MC: Even if he doesn't want to, just take him by the scruff of his neck and dunk him in!

Simeon: It's not that simple. The purification ritual has several stages, and he's still stuck on the very first — the meditation. He can't focus at all. His mind keeps wandering.

_ding._

_ding._

Simeon ignores the repeated messages.

Simeon: Luke has always had trouble with focusing his attention. Baking lessons did help him with that a bit, and I've thought he's made a lot of progress, but apparently —

MC: Bring him here.

Simeon: !

MC: The Celestial Realm has **too many distractions**. There's all that Celestial food that he prefers, all the angels that he missed and wants to socialize with, and I'm sure it has thousands of other attractions.

MC: And I bet it's too **relaxed**. There's no **urgency**.

MC: **Bring him here**. The purification facilities can be arranged, and I'll personally make sure his mind is focused on what's **really important**.

There's nothing like a **little danger** to keep a mind focused on **survival**.

Simeon: I'll consider it —

 _riiiiing_.

After hissing something inaudible under his breath, Simeon takes the call.

Simeon: Yes. Yes, I am coming back. In a minute.

Simeon: ...

Simeon: Yes, **right now**.

Simeon's whole figure is engulfed in golden light. He is fading from view.

MC: There's nothing to **consider**. Just do it. Send Luke here — as soon as his flying lessons are done!

MC: Give me your answer **right now**!

Simeon's lips are moving, but the voice of his dematerializing form no longer reaches me.

I try to read his lips.

Simeon: (Both of you have **no patience**.)

MC: And remember, my offer of Aspire citizenship stands!

Something flickers in his eyes, but I can't tell whether he heard me at all.

In a flash of golden light, Simeon is gone.


	82. The Council Meeting: Leviathan's Proposal

Just before I reach the gates, I receive a message.

[Asmodeus: The meeting has just started.]

[Asmodeus: Oh, no...]

[MC: What is it?]

[Asmodeus: Diavolo says he's only gathered us to say that all Council meetings will be canceled until further notice.]

[Asmodeus: He's already dismissing us!]

[MC: What?!]

Does that mean I won't get an opportunity to speak to Luke privately until undefined **further notice**?

[Asmodeus: Not to worry, my dear, we've got this!]

[Asmodeus: Levi says that he has something extremely important to discuss.]

[Asmodeus: Diavolo asks him whether that extremely important thing can wait until the next meeting.]

[Asmodeus: Levi admits that it can, but he says he's gathered all of his courage to speak up now, and he won't say anything during the next meeting, because his courage will dissipate.]

[Asmodeus: Now Lucifer is asking Diavolo to hear Levi out, because this is the first time Levi has taken an initiative to speak during a meeting before everyone, and he hopes this will be a start of a positive trend, where Levi will become more active in the Council.]

[Asmodeus: Diavolo lets Levi take the floor.]

[Asmodeus: Levi says he wants to propose something that will improve the quality of life in the Devildom, but we need a little background to understand what he's talking about.]

[Asmodeus: Now Levi has started talking about Ruri-chan, and about all the franchise she's ever appeared in.]

[Asmodeus: Levi says he's prepared a presentation to support his proposal.]

[Asmodeus: He's speaking very passionately, and he's got many pictures and diagrams to show.]

[Asmodeus: We have no idea what he's getting at, but I can tell this will take a while.]

[Asmodeus: My dear, I'll let you know when he's done!]

Before I talk to Luke, I should check on Decimus first. I wonder where he is right now?

The moment I pass through the gates, someone grabs my wrist.

MC: !

It's Decimus.

Decimus: What took you so long?

He looks really agitated. The sapphire flames are swirling around him like mini-vortexes.

Decimus: While you were away, I had to deal with another annoying visitor. I don't have the time for that right now.

MC: Sorry, sorry. I should've been here sooner to greet Simeon.

Decimus: Never mind that, forget him.

Decimus: Come with me. I need to show you something.

Decimus teleports us both into his study.

MC: !

An ancient daguerreotype is hovering in the middle of the study, sealed behind a thick layer of protective charms.

It's a picture of Diavolo!

MC: ...

The picture seems to be taken a long time ago, but Diavolo hasn't changed much. He's dressed in black and gold, wearing his true form, and he's looking at a huge pile of papers in front of him with an expression of abject horror on his face.

MC: (snicker)

MC: He looks so cute. When was this taken?

Decimus: At the Elysium-Maar Convention, not long after he was born.

That's right, Decimus said Diavolo had to deal with all the paperwork during that time on his own. I wonder if that experience traumatized Diavolo enough that he never wants to deal with any paperwork again.

Decimus: This is the only picture of Diavolo that I have.

Decimus: The problem is, it's really outdated. I can't use it as a reference for a portrait.

Decimus: I wish I had a more recent picture.

MC: ...Why would you need a picture as a reference?

MC: Diavolo will be the model for the portrait himself. You can use the demon himself as a reference.

Decimus: That would require me to look at him.

Decimus: I'm not going to look at him.

I suppose he's coping with the impending meeting by denying that it's actually going to happen.

MC: Will you at least open the door for Diavolo when he comes?

Decimus does not respond. A gust of wind runs across the study, disturbing the papers and the paraphernalia, even though the window is closed.

All right, let's calm him down first.

Decimus usually responds well to a conversation. All I need to do is keep his attention.

MC: Look at this outfit Diavolo is wearing. It's not bad. The black-and-gold colors are bold and noble.

Decimus turns to look at the picture. He is at least willing to look at Diavolo indirectly.

Decimus: Ambassador colors.

Decimus: And...these symbols here, on his sleeves...

MC: The moon and the stars?

Decimus: The Devildom's official symbols, since time immemorial.

MC: Really? I don't see them around much.

Decimus: No, you wouldn't.

Decimus: Symbols can give strength. Wearing official Devildom symbols can give actual power to a demon.

Decimus: But requiring an extra strength is a public admission of weakness.

Decimus: Because of that, at some point of time, both the Devildom and the Celestial Realm stopped using their official symbols.

MC: That's such a shame.

Decimus: Indeed.

MC: What is the official symbol of the Celestial Realm?

Decimus: The sun.

Decimus: In addition to the sun, images of planets other than the moon can sometimes be used.

Decimus: During the Time of Chaos, you could see the images of the sun and the moon everywhere. But not anymore.

Decimus: There is a very long and convoluted historical reason for why it happened, but it can be summarized as **the dance of pride**.

Decimus: Both sides want to return to using their official symbols, and neither side is willing to make the first move.

Decimus: Whoever acts first, loses. And meanwhile, no moon and no stars.

Decimus sounds impassive about this, but I can tell it makes him sad. He waves his hand, and the daguerreotype of Diavolo vanishes.

I press my hand against the talisman on my chest.

MC: Do you think you could take a look at the cat now?

Decimus' expression clears.

Decimus: Ah, yes.

Decimus draws the silvery vapour out of the talisman. It reforms into a cat shape again. With a single touch, he restores the missing paw to its former intact shape, then contemplates the whole cat.

MC: So, a rabbit?

Decimus: Let's give it a try.

The cat transforms into a swirling mist, which reforms itself into a rabbit shape. The rabbit's eyes are smoldering like embers with a malicious red light.

MC: Aww, how cute!

The rabbit turns its head towards me.

MC: Welcome back, flawless creation.

The rabbit blinks at me. I reach out and pet the rabbit's fluffy forehead, and it nudges me with its nose in response.

MC: Do you have a name for this construct?

Decimus: Hmm... maybe Demo?

MC: What a nice name. Demo, as in a trial version? Or as in, a demonic creation?

Decimus: Both.

Decimus: Let's unleash it upon the perimeter guard for now. They need regular training to keep them alert and in shape, and the construct can learn from such encounters.

MC: Do your best, Demo!

With an uncanny speed, Demo hops away.

Before Decimus can go back to dwelling on the impending meeting, I make another request.

MC: Can you tell what sort of demon could cause this wound?

I show him the picture of Mammon's injured arm that I took before.

Decimus: Calling it a wound is an extreme exaggeration. This is just a scratch, nothing more.

Decimus: Mammon should be ashamed of himself for worrying you with something like that.

MC: I'm not worried. I'm just asking out of curiosity. Can you tell a demon's type based on the appearance of a scratch?

Decimus: This was obviously done by a minion mid-ranker who has a cat-like demi-human shape.

MC: Thank you for the info.

MC: I dressed the wound already, but could you take a look at Mammon when he comes back?

Decimus: Why didn't he come back with you?

MC: Mammon... had something to do.

Decimus: Are you saying that he abandoned you in the middle of your outing and ran away to do his own business?

MC: Well, not exactly in the middle. It was closer to the end of it.

Decimus: Does he even know how an escort should behave?

Decimus: If you go out together, then you should return together. Leaving you to return on your own shows lack of manners and consideration. Not to mention, it places you in danger.

I wasn't really in danger, since Mammon left when we were already at the gates, in full view of the perimeter guard.

But I am still resentful of Mammon for ditching me when faced with an unusually forbidding Simeon, so I don't feel the need to speak on his behalf.

Suddenly, Decimus' gaze turns distant. He seems to be focused on something I can't see.

Decimus: Mammon has returned.

Decimus: Let's **welcome him back**.

Decimus transforms into my splitting image and teleports us both to the field of consecration.

There, we see Mammon, who is lounging inside a barrel of gemstones. Mammon is so submerged in beryls, you can barely see his head.

Mammon: Yaaaay!

Decimus: ...

MC: ...

Decimus: What is he doing?

MC: I think he's...bathing...frolicking...in that barrel of gemstones that we have ordered for the Pool of Fortune.

I wonder if Mammon remembers that these beryls are for the reincarnation project, and not for him to sell.

MC: Let him enjoy himself a little. Get a recharge.

MC: Listen, you said you wanted a recent picture of Diavolo to use as a reference.

MC: I have to meet up with him today anyway. Do you want me to take a picture of him?

Decimus: !

Decimus: Yes, that would be very helpful.

Making a promise like that, I feel like I'm biting off more than I can chew. But Decimus looks relieved, and I hope Luke can give me good advice on how to deal with Diavolo.

If not, then maybe overexposure to Diavolo's true form will cause me to finally become desensitized to him.

Hopefully.

Decimus drags Mammon out of the barrel of gemstones, and unwraps the bandage on Mammon's arm.

Mammon: Hey!

Decimus: The scratch has healed completely. You don't need that bandage anymore.

Mammon: Let me keep it, my arm still feels tender!

Decimus: You just need to **exercise** it more.

Decimus: It would appear that you have completely recovered your strength.

Decimus: Back to the consecration.

Mammon: Wait, just a little more —!

Decimus hauls Mammon alway.

_ding._

[Asmodeus: My dear, Levi has finally clarified the purpose of his proposal.]

[Asmodeus: He wants a life-sized statue of Ruri-chan to be installed at the central shopping square.]

It figures.

[Asmodeus: Diavolo is asking him whether Levi is being serious, or whether he's simply trying to waste his time.]

[Asmodeus: Levi says that while this matter might feel like a waste of time to Diavolo, the other denizens of the Devildom don't feel the same.]

[Asmodeus: Oh my goodness!]

[MC: What's happening?]

[Asmodeus: Levi has presented a signed petition from the Legion to have a statue of Ruri-chain installed! The petition has thousands of signatures, and bears the seal of the General himself!]

[Asmodeus: Diavolo has no choice but to look through these papers.]

This is my chance!

I send a message to Luke.

[MC: Do you have a moment? I need to talk to you.]

[Luke: Wait a minute, I'll move to a different place. It's forbidden to use D.D.D. here.]

It sounds like the Celestial Realm has a lot of restrictions.

Now that I've dropped Mammon off, I should probably get moving myself.

I leave through the gates and raise my hand to call for the carriage, which instantly materializes next to me.

The same coachdemon as before opens the door for me. But now he has a high-ranker sitting next to him, wrapped completely in a hooded cloak. The hooded high-ranker bows to me without saying anything.

Since I am leaving on my own, it would appear that Decimus has arranged a bodyguard for me.

MC: Majolish, and take the longest route.

I settle in the carriage again, and it takes off.

_ding._

[Luke: I can talk now!]

_ding._

[Asmodeus: Diavolo has approved the statue of Ruri-chan after just skimming the petition!]

Oh, no.

[MC: Luke, please wait a minute.]

[Luke: Okay.]

[Asmodeus: Levi is so worn out and drained emotionally that he can't even celebrate and he's passed out right in his seat.]

[Asmodeus: Diavolo is dismissing us again, and he sounds like he really means it this time.]

[MC: !!]

[Asmodeus: But don't worry, my dear. ❤]

[Asmodeus: Satan says that he has something extremely important to discuss.]


	83. The Council Meeting: Satan's Onslaught

[Asmodeus: Diavolo says he will not listen to anyone else today, and suggests that Satan speak during the next meeting.]

[Asmodeus: Satan says that his matter is crucial to the government of the Devildom, and it's urgent.]

[Asmodeus: Diavolo lets Satan take the floor.]

MC: ...

Something is off. If Satan was lying, Diavolo would be able to tell. That means Satan is speaking the truth.

An urgent matter, crucial to the government of the Devildom...?

[MC: Asmo, what is Satan talking about?]

[Asmodeus: Ugh...he's talking about...ummm...]

[MC: ?]

[Asmodeus: I'm sorry, my darling, I have no idea!]

[MC: How come?]

[Asmodeus: Satan is quoting some obscure laws and regulations, and he's speaking in such a droning monotone, I can't even discern his words.]

[Asmodeus: None of us can tell what he's talking about, and even Lucifer's eyes are glazing over.]

[Asmodeus: Belphie has already fallen asleep, and Beel is about to follow suit.]

[Asmodeus: Poor Levi is still unconscious. And I think Lucifer is dozing with his eyes open.]

[Asmodeus: Diavolo is wide awake, though, and he's listening to Satan intently.]

[MC: Diavolo is looking at Satan?]

[Asmodeus: Yes, he's staring right at him.]

It means that Diavolo is definitely not checking his D.D.D. right now.

This is my chance to talk to Luke!

[Asmodeus: Satan's speech is so boring, I think I'm about to join Belphie in slumber.]

[MC: Asmo, please try to stay awake!]

[MC: If you can get any details out of Satan's speech, please let me know!]

[Asmodeus: If it's for you, my dear, I will make this great sacrifice and concentrate on his boring speech!]

I send a message to Luke.

[MC: I need advice on how to deal with Diavolo.]

[MC: Ever since you left, the situation's been spiraling out of control.]

I briefly summarize the encounter at the black market.

Luke sends me a facepalming sticker.

[MC: There has to be a reason why I'm so weak to him.]

[MC: Please tell me that Diavolo has some sort of demonic charm ability, like Asmo!]

[Luke: He doesn't.]

[Luke: If he did, I would be able to see it.]

[MC: This is exactly what I was afraid you'd say!]

[MC: Why am I so susceptible to his smile? I don't want to be affected this much!]

[Luke: If it's any consolation, I'm sure Diavolo isn't having it easy either.]

[MC: What do you mean?]

[Luke: You're a human. He should have thousands of means of influencing you.]

[Luke: And yet, the only way he can get you to do what he wants is by **acting cute** in front of you.]

[Luke: I'm certain this absurd situation is causing him a great deal of confusion and suffering.]

[MC: Luke, so you also think that Diavolo is cute?]

[Luke: No, this is not what I said just now!]

[Luke: How did you even arrive at this conclusion from what I said?]

[MC: He has such an adorable smile. It's like the sun lighting up.]

[Luke: Diavolo is **like the sun**?]

[MC: When I see him smiling happily, I feel like everything is right with this world, and everything will be all right.]

[Luke: You know **he's a demon** , right?]

[MC: But when he's looking unhappy, I feel like everything is wrong. I want to do something until he's back to his cheerful self.]

[MC: It makes me want to change the world until it's in alignment with Diavolo's smile.]

[Luke: I did not just read that.]

[Luke: I read nothing, and I remember nothing.]

[Luke: I am not listening to you gushing about Diavolo.]

[MC: If you don't listen to me, then who will?]

[MC: The other demons would be even less willing to listen, and I don't want anyone to know how I feel.]

[MC: You're my guardian angel, so I can only confess these feelings to you.]

[Luke: ...]

[Luke: I know it's my duty to be your confidant. I know it, but...]

[Luke: But why does it have to be **so hard**?]

[Luke: Why is my human so involved with demons?]

[Luke: And why does it have to be Diavolo?]

[MC: Oh, I forgot. You prefer **Barbatos**.]

[Luke: What? No.]

[MC: Don't try to hide it. You thought I wouldn't notice?]

[MC: You're always sneaking out to see him, because he teaches you his secret baking recipes.]

[MC: Tsk, it turns out that angels are so easily bribed with cookies.]

[MC: Because of a handful of sweets, you would even hang out with the one who erased me from existence.]

[MC: Angels have **no concept of loyalty**.]

[Luke: I'll listen to you gushing about Diavolo!]

[MC: Well, if you insist...]

[Luke: (headache sticker)]

_ding._

[Asmodeus: Lucifer has completely fallen asleep now. It's all because of Satan's droning voice.]

[Asmodeus: But Diavolo is still listening to Satan very seriously.]

[Asmodeus: In fact, other than Diavolo and Satan, I am the only one fully awake.]

[Asmodeus: I'm only hanging on because of my deep adoration for you!]

[Asmodeus: Now Satan is saying something about...]

[MC: Luke, please hang on.]

[Luke: Okay.]

[Luke: Is everything all right on your end?]

[MC: Everything is fine. I am just trying to keep our conversation private.]

[Asmodeus: ...Something about...chapter forty-nine? He keeps repeating those numbers.]

MC: ...

There's no way, right?

[MC: **The Charter of Fort Bright Night**?]

[Asmodeus: Yes, exactly!]

MC: !!!

[MC: Did he say anything about **hegemony** or **the Grand Assembly**?]

Asmo sends me a shocked sticker.

[Asmodeus: He's using these words right now!]

[Asmodeus: How did you know he would? Are you a seer?]

Unholy dead deities!

I have gravely underestimated the depth and intensity of Satan's wrath. His itching horn has finally caused him to snap.

In an oddly intellectual way, however.

[MC: Asmo, stop Satan from saying another word! Knock him out, do whatever it takes!]

[MC: He's threatening to depose Diavolo!]

No, rather than threatening — hasn't he already **started that process**?

He even has a required number of witnesses, none of whom are speaking out against his claim — because they don't realize what's going on!

My fingers shaking with adrenaline, I call Satan's number.

_riiiing. riiiing. riiiiiiing._

_click._

The call connects.

There is a **thump**.

[MC: Satan?]

No response.

I can hear distant voices.

[Lucifer: Lower him into his seat. Carefully.]

[Beelzebub: Is he all right?]

[Lucifer: Perfectly fine. I have checked his pulse already. He should regain consciousness in a few hours.]

[Belphegor: It was easier to knock Satan out than I thought.]

[Lucifer: Fortunately he was distracted by a phone call.]

MC: ...

I have very mixed feelings about being a distraction to Satan, but it sounds like the disaster was averted with a minimal loss.

[Diavolo: It looks like Satan has nothing else to add. In this case, let's postpone this matter until he wakes up.]

[Lucifer: Diavolo, please pay no attention to everything Satan has said just now. It's all because of his regrowing horn.]

[Lucifer: He is not himself, and he doesn't know what he's saying.]

[Lucifer: It's my fault for not forcing him to take his medication.]

[Lucifer: This matter will not be brought up again.]

[Diavolo: Of course, I understand. I hope he recovers soon.]

[Diavolo: If there's nothing else, this meeting is ajour —]

[Asmodeus: Please wait a moment.]

[Asmodeus: I have something **extremely important** to discuss.]

[Diavolo: ...Is it your turn now, Asmodeus?]

[Asmodeus: Tee-hee. Yes, it's the turn of yours truly to speak.]

[Asmodeus: Were you looking forward to it?]

[Diavolo: I think I've made it quite clear that I am **very busy**. I have another appointment after this meeting that I can't be late for.]

[Diavolo: I don't think you can say anything that could convince me to extend this meeting, Asmodeus.]

[Asmodeus: That's where you're wrong!]

[Asmodeus: Lord Diavolo, if you don't hear me out right now, I promise that you will **regret it most bitterly** in the immediate future.]

[Asmodeus: The matter I'm about to discuss has the potential of affecting the stability and the prosperity of the Devildom.]

[Diavolo: ...]

[Diavolo: Everyone is suddenly very active in the Council now.]

[Diavolo: This is the liveliest Council meeting we've had to date.]

Diavolo doesn't sound very pleased about it.

MC: ...

[Diavolo: Very well. But this is **the last time**.]

[Diavolo: Asmodeus, the floor is yours.]


	84. The Council Meeting: Asmodeus' Selection

I'm worried about Satan.

The thing with Satan, he's so used to suppressing his emotions that sometimes even he himself doesn't know when he's losing it. He'd be having a meltdown on the inside, but nothing would change about his voice or expression.

The only telling sign would be an obviously odd behavior, like wearing his true form all the time, or holing up in the library with a mountain of books all of a sudden. But if you ask him what's wrong, he would only be confused, and say that he's the same as usual.

Most of the time, these brief episodes would come to nothing, because he would eventually get the matter under control on his own. For this reason, I'm not surprised that the situation has reached the breaking point without anyone noticing.

Satan is not like Belphie.

When Belphie is even a little upset, Lucifer knows it, Beel knows it, his entire family knows it, even Diavolo knows it (even if he'd rather not be informed of it), and someone (preferably a group of people) has to immediately run around all over the place searching for Belphie and desperately trying to contact him.

Meanwhile, Belphie himself would be taking a peaceful nap in the attic, just waiting for someone to come find him.

Satan, on the other hand, doesn't give any warning signs.

If I knew Satan's speech would come to this, I wouldn't have asked the demon brothers for help with occupying Diavolo.

I am debating whether to call this whole scheme off, but something tells me it might no longer be possible at this point.

The matter that can potentially affect the stability and the prosperity of the Devildom?

For all of our sakes, I hope that Asmo is exaggerating for dramatic effect, and that his matter is something completely innocent, like the statue of Ruri-chan. Maybe Asmo wants a statue of himself?

The call to Satan's D.D.D. is still connected. I am trying to hear what they're talking about.

There is a rustling of papers. Then Diavolo's voice sounds, strained.

[Diavolo: How many?]

[Asmodeus: Three hundred in total.]

[Diavolo: **Three hundred fiancees**?]

Uh, what?

[Asmodeus: Three hundred **fiancee candidates.** ]

What's going on? Who's getting married?

[Diavolo: I wasn't aware that I was getting married.]

So it's Diavolo. But apparently, this is as much news to him as it is to me.

[Asmodeus: Lord Diavolo, you keep receiving all those marriage proposals all the time, and you have to deal with them one by one. It's **inefficient**.]

[Asmodeus: The other officers end up having to deal with this issue in your stead, and it's taking away from their time.]

[Asmodeus: I've come up with a way to solve this issue once and for all.]

[Lucifer: **Interesting**. Tell us more, Asmo.]

[Diavolo: ...]

...It sounds like Lucifer is getting tired of dealing with Diavolo's pursuers.

Well, I'm not surprised Diavolo has a lot of admirers. It would be stranger if he hadn't.

[Asmodeus: I've personally handpicked the candidates worthy of becoming your fiancee, Lord Diavolo. I've put **a lot of thought** into it.]

[Asmodeus: Those chosen will be invited to participate in the Selection.]

MC: (The Selection?)

[Diavolo: The Selection?]

[Asmodeus: It's a competition where the invited candidates will show off their skills before the entire Devildom and fight each other for your attention.]

[Asmodeus: A Romance Royale, so to speak.]

[Asmodeus: In each round, the candidates will be gradually eliminated, and the ones who make it to the final round will have the honor of **you asking for their hand in marriage**.]

I am unable to suppress a snicker.

I hope Asmo can get Diavolo married to **all three hundred of them**. Then Diavolo would definitely not have any leisure time to confuse me any further. He'd be too preoccupied.

Actually, he wouldn't have the spare time for **anything at all**.

[Asmodeus: Yours truly have done a lot of work setting this up. All the invitations to the Selection were written and sent by me personally.]

[Diavolo: You've **already sent** those invitations?]

[Asmodeus: They're on their way to the candidates **even as we speak**.]

Strange. I only asked Asmo to extend this meeting a few minutes ago. But this sort of work must have taken hours. Asmo must have done a lot of preparations, long before I made my request.

I wonder if this Council meeting ended up so dramatic because the demon brothers already had a grudge against Diavolo, and they were just waiting for a good opportunity to act on it.

[Diavolo: Is there any way to **call these invitations off**?]

[Asmodeus: Ummm. But it would be such a waste! The future Queen of the Devildom could be among them! All my hard work and initiative are not being appreciated...Sniff...]

[Diavolo: **Asmodeus, tell me how to call them off**. **NOW**.]

Diavolo is finally losing his cool. I snicker again. This is starting to become entertaining.

[Asmodeus: Ugh, fine.]

[Asmodeus: You have to go through the profiles of the candidates one by one, and write "eliminated" under their names.]

[Asmodeus: The eliminated candidate will be disqualified from participating in the Selection, and their invitations will be destroyed.]

I can already hear the papers rustling quickly.

_Rustle, rustle, rustle._

[Diavolo: Lucifer, help me with this half of the papers.]

[Lucifer: Yes...]

 _Ruuustle_.

There is a very slow paper rustle in response to Diavolo's order.

[Diavolo: Do it faster. Just write "eliminated". There is no need to look through them.]

[Lucifer: My apologies. I was distracted by the portrait on this profile.]

[Asmodeus: Oh, you mean **the tentacles** caught your eye?]

[Asmodeus: I had no idea that you were into this sort of thing, Lucifer.]

I had no idea either. In spite of myself, I am listening with increased interest.

Lucifer is **into tentacles**?

[Lucifer: I'm **not**. Don't spread misinformation, Asmo.]

[Lucifer: The tentacles indicate that this demon candidate is unable to maintain a human form.]

[Lucifer: Clearly it's a low-ranker, unworthy of even consideration for the position of Diavolo's lifelong partner.]

[Lucifer: Didn't you say that you handpicked the **most worthy** candidates, Asmo?]

[Asmodeus: And I did! This candidate has a lot of **uncontrollable destructive power**.]

[Lucifer: **Uncontrollable**...?]

[Asmodeus: I can't believe you're being so shallow about the outward appearance, Lucifer. True beauty lies beneath the surface!]

[Diavolo: Rather unexpected to hear that from you, Asmodeus.]

Diavolo got him there...

[Asmodeus: Rest assured, I have chosen them based on their **personalities** first and foremost.]

[Asmodeus: I gave them all a thorough **background check**.]

[Lucifer: Is that so?]

_Rustle, rustle._

[Lucifer: I see this witch here has already been married **sixty-nine times**. And shortly after the marriage ceremony, all of her previous husbands have **met an untimely end**.]

[Lucifer: As a result, she had inherited their fortunes.]

[Asmodeus: I can't believe you'd hold someone's past against them, Lucifer. Everyone deserves a second chance at love!]

[Lucifer: Second, perhaps. Seventieth, I am not so sure.]

It seems that Asmo has put **a lot of thought** into his selection, just like he said. It's just that his criteria are a bit on the **fatal** side.

[Lucifer: There's nothing to indicate that she intends to change her hunting lifestyle.]

[Asmodeus: It's all because she hasn't met the One yet. Maybe Lord Diavolo will melt down her frozen heart.]

[Lucifer: And if he doesn't?]

[Asmodeus: Then that's **too bad**.]

[Lucifer: ...]

[Diavolo: ...]

MC: ...

So this is the true purpose of this Selection. Asmo is actually threatening Diavolo. He's trying to get him killed with all those candidates. The whole thing is a **warning**.

I wonder what pissed Asmo off so much.

_Rustle, rustle, rustle._

Welp, I'd better leave them to it. They have three hundred profiles to go through.

I'm going to use this time to talk to Luke.


	85. Memory Erased

[MC: Luke, I can only talk for a brief time.]

[MC: Quickly give me advice on how to deal with Diavolo!]

[Luke: Don't ogle him.]

[MC: That's impossible!]

[Luke: (headache sticker)]

[MC: I can easily restrain myself in a formal setting, but this is different.]

[MC: I'm meeting him in a few minutes, he'll be trying on new outfits, and I'll have to take a picture of him.]

[MC: How do you expect me not to gaze at him under these challenging circumstances?]

Luke sends me a sticker of an angel meditating.

[Luke: I observe the world without being affected by it.]

[Luke: These words are like clouds floating by.]

[MC: I wish I could say the same, but I don't think I can pull that off where Diavolo is concerned.]

[MC: I've tried my best, but I always end up being affected by him.]

[Luke: Are you worried that he might make another unreasonable request of you?]

[MC: I wish he would.]

[Luke: (meditation sticker)]

[MC: I don't mind his requests. They're fun.]

[MC: But he doesn't truly rely on me. He is just like Lucifer in that regard.]

[MC: Lucifer treats me as someone who can't be trusted, and Diavolo treats me as an outsider who is only here temporarily.]

Simeon is lucky to have a superior who relies on him so much. And Simeon even boasted about it to me, which I think wasn't very nice.

[Luke: This is nothing to be disheartened about.]

[Luke: Diavolo is only using you as a pawn in his game. Do you truly want him to do that on a permanent basis?]

[MC: I don't mind being a piece on the board, if it means I get to affect the outcome of the game.]

[MC: Besides, a pawn who crosses the board can be promoted to a knight.]

[Luke: A knight? I thought it was a queen.]

[MC: There are several options to choose from.]

[MC: While a queen is more useful, a knight might be harder to predict. It all depends on your position anyway.]

[MC: I don't want to fall into the same trap as before, and become a tool for someone else's endgame. I want to use that power for my own personal gain.]

[Luke: What are you going to do with that power, if you gain it?]

[Luke: Other than solving the issue of Belphegor.]

[MC: Heheh.]

[Luke: I have a bad feeling about this...]

[MC: I will tell you in person later.]

[Luke: (meditation sticker)]

Luke has been using that sticker a lot lately...

[MC: I'm sorry for interrupting your meditation.]

[Luke: My meditation?]

[Luke: Did you hear about that from Simeon?]

[MC: Well...]

I don't want to place Simeon in a difficult position by confirming it. I know Luke was against him telling me anything.

But if Luke insists, I will have no choice but to tell him all the truth. If I am forced to pick a side, there is just no comparison.

Even if I end up losing Simeon as an informant.

[Luke: You're overthinking it.]

MC: !

[Luke: You're not interrupting anything.]

[Luke: I've made more progress in the art of meditation during our conversation than I've made during all the centuries before.]

[Luke: My ability to contemplate Zen has grown a lot.]

It sounds like Luke doesn't really mind me keeping tabs on him. That's a relief.

[MC: It turns out that angels can grow out their ability to contemplate Zen like horns.]

[Luke: At least compare it to halos instead.]

[MC: But horns are more flattering. Because demons are attractive.]

[Luke: (meditation sticker)]

[Luke: I should really introduce you to Cassiel one day.]

[Luke: Among all the angels, he is said to be the most charming one.]

[Luke: Demons are monsters whose true appearance is hideous, and they will eat you!]

[MC: Yes, yes.]

Luke is typing...

He stops several times, apparently erasing and redoing his message before finally sending it.

[Luke: But if you're not bothered by Diavolo's requests, then what are you worried about?]

[Luke: If you're not afraid of the consequences, then just look at him all you want.]

[MC: I can't do that. I want to preserve my dignity — what's left of it, anyway.]

[MC: I don't want to make a fool of myself.]

[Luke: If you plan to hide your staring from Diavolo, it's too late.]

[Luke: He already knows.]

This is exactly what I didn't want to hear!

[MC: GAAAAH, how can you be so sure about that?]

[MC: Wait, don't answer that!]

[Luke: With the way you look at him, anyone would notice.]

[MC: UGH, I took 280% spiritual damage from that answer, I've been pulverized!]

[MC: (sticker of a slime flattened by a paperweight)]

[Luke: ...What's with this sticker? Are you comparing yourself to a slime?]

[MC: Anyway, even if he knows, that doesn't change anything.]

[MC: I don't want to disturb other demons by my creepy behavior if I can help it.]

[MC: Especially the unrelated demons who don't have a pact with me.]

[Luke: You don't have to feel bad about it. It's not your fault. Diavolo is the one who created this situation deliberately.]

[Luke: He is taking advantage of the fact that you feel indebted to him.]

[Luke: He knows that it's difficult for you to refuse his requests!]

[MC: I feel indebted to him?]

[MC: For what?]

There is no reply.

[MC: Luke?]

Luke is typing...

For some reason, I feel uneasy about this.

[Luke: He's the one who brought you to the Devildom.]

Whew, it was something like that. Of course, I know that.

He's the one who brought me in, and he's the one who kicked me out.

I owe him nothing.

[MC: He did.]

[MC: Temporarily.]

[MC: Now that I've served my purpose, he doesn't need me here anymore.]

[Luke: That's not all.]

[MC: There's MORE?]

There is a long pause.

[Luke: So you don't remember?]

MC: !

[MC: Are you talking about what happened during my trial?]

[MC: Decimus told me that he erased my memory of it.]

[Luke: It figures. Decimus placed the Edict of Silence on me, so I can't speak of specifics, but...]

[Luke: Generally speaking...]

[Luke: When someone erases a significant memory, it's not gone completely. Traces of it remain.]

[Luke: Even if you've forgotten what happened, you still feel the emotions caused by the forgotten event. Those feelings are like loose ends, cut off.]

[Luke: They can't be traced back to the source. That might cause you to feel confused.]

[Luke: This is one of the reasons why you find Diavolo so difficult to deal with.]

[Luke: At least partially, it's out of obligation.]

[MC: I see. So it's not entirely because of his looks.]

[MC: That's a relief! I thought I was completely shallow.]

[MC: Not that there's anything wrong with that, of course.]

[Luke: You're the opposite of shallow. This is precisely why demons find you such an irresistible challenge, and so difficult to deal with.]

[Luke: Your feelings are not simple.]

[MC: I am as simple as a slime!]

[MC: But I feel much better now, after talking to you.]

[MC: Thank you, Luke.]

[Luke: I feel like I'll need decades to recover from this conversation.]

[Luke: If you want to thank me, come up with a proper way to do it.]

[MC: Trust me, I'll come up with something.]

[MC: I bet you're missing Barbatos' baking already, aren't you?]

I'm sure I could blackmail Barbatos into sharing a secret recipe or two. I have enough material on him already, and if I need more, I could always ask Solomon.

[Luke: I told you, it's not like that!]

[MC: Sure, sure.]

 _ding_.

[Asmodeus: My dear, I have finished my presentation.]

[MC: How did it go?]

[Asmodeus: It was a big hit, of course! Diavolo was listening with rapt attention.]

I bet he was. I can't hold back a smirk.

[MC: You're the best, Asmo. ♡]

[Asmodeus: ❤ Thank you, dear.]

[Asmodeus: Now Beel and Belphie are saying they have an important matter to discuss...]

[Asmodeus: I didn't expect them to take part in this. Beel only seemed interested in leaving the meeting to go to the cafeteria.]

[Asmodeus: And I'm surprised Belphie even showed up for the meeting in the first place.]

[Asmodeus: Diavolo says, let's get this over with, and he gives them both thirty seconds to speak together.]

Thirty seconds, huh?

More than enough for me.

I take a card out of my pocket. The letters imprinted on the card say, in a circular silver script, "Memory Erasure."

I scan the card with my D.D.D.

Karasu: Erase the latest conversation?

MC: Yes.

Karasu: Memory erasure initiated. Erasing...erasing...

I watch as my chat with Luke disappears, line by line, as though wiped out by an invisible hand.

Karasu: Memory erasure complete.

The card in my hand flares and disappears.

MC: (My ultra rare card!)

The chat with Luke is gone, as though it never existed in the first place.

Now, it only exists in the memory of both participants.

_ding._

[Luke: What's going on?]

[Luke: Our entire chat is gone.]

[MC: Just a privacy measure. Let's not discuss that matter over D.D.D. again.]

[Luke: Okay.]

[MC: Were you looking at our chat? Could it be that you wanted to keep that conversation?]

[Luke: I only wish I could erase that conversation from my mind as well. I want to forget it ever happened.]

[MC: Luke, you've become more vicious. You used to be so cute.]

[MC: I wonder if gaining your wings has caused this personality change?]

[Luke: Is that a problem?]

[MC: Of course not!]

[MC: Even if you evolve into a sadistic angel, I will still accept you!]

[MC: I'm sure Simeon will, as well.]

[MC: And Michael already said that low Mercy is good, so there's nothing to worry about!]

[Luke: "Sadistic angel"? Isn't that an oxymoron?]

[Luke: Also, "evolve"? You're saying it like it's a good thing.]

_ding._

[Asmodeus: Oh my gosh, my darling, you won't believe what's happening in the Council Room!]


	86. Multitasking

[Asmodeus: Belphie presented a letter from Michael proposing a work exchange between the Devildom and the Celestial Realm.]

[MC: What? Michael wants to have a work exchange?]

[MC: Really?]

Why did nobody tell me about this? And why is **Belphie** the first one to know, of all demons?

[Asmodeus: Well, about that...]

[Asmodeus: After Lord Diavolo took a look at the letter, it became clear that Michael's signature was forged.]

 **What**?

[MC: Belphie forged Michael's signature?]

[Asmodeus: Actually, Lord Diavolo thinks it was Beel who did that.]

BEEL forged Michael's signature?

I didn't realize he had a talent in forgery. Did Belphie bribe him with food to convince him to do it?

[MC: Hey, hey, isn't that PRETTY BAD?]

Here in the Devildom, murder is normal, and eating someone is business as usual, but forging someone's signature is a pretty **big deal**.

[MC: Why would Belphie even do that?]

[Asmodeus: Naturally, it was to asdaksdjakjsd]

[MC: Asmo?]

[Asmodeus: Pardon me.]

[Asmodeus: It was to stir up trouble during this Council meeting.]

[Asmodeus: Belphie was the one most enthusiastic about causing a distraction during the meeting, you see.]

[MC: Is everything all right over there?]

[Asmodeus: Not quite.]

[Asmodeus: Lucifer's lost it.]

MC: ...

I feel a strong lack of surprise at the news.

[Asmodeus: Lucifer has become so enraged by the twins' forgery that he started flinging fireballs and lightning bolts around indiscriminately.]

[Asmodeus: Lord Diavolo was anxious to adjourn the meeting and leave, but now he has to stay behind even longer and placate Lucifer.]

[Asmodeus: The Council Room is being reduced to rubble even as we speak.]

[MC: Are you still in the Council Room?]

[Asmodeus: Of course. Lord Diavolo hasn't dismissed us yet.]

[Asmodeus: I am dodging fireballs while typing!]

[MC: Asmo, that's too dangerous. Either stop typing or get out of there.]

[Asmodeus: Hehe. Not to worry, my dear, I am very good at multitasking!]

[Asmodeus: It's just one of my many, many hidden talents.]

[Asmodeus: Are you looking forward to uncovering them all?]

[MC: Maybe, as long as your life is not on the line in the process.]

[Asmodeus: My darling, you're so sweet!]

Asmo sends me a sticker overflowing with hearts.

He even has the leisure to pick a sticker under these circumstances...

If he's not leaving the room, I better not keep distracting him.

[MC: Let's end this chat for now.]

[Asmodeus: Don't.]

[Asmodeus: You don't have to worry about distracting me. I want to report to you everything that's happening.]

[Asmodeus: As long as I can talk to you, I don't mind dodging a thousand fireballs!]

Asmo sends me a kiss sticker.

It sounds like he's in high spirits.

Well, I'm sure Lucifer won't hurt his brothers, no matter how enraged he becomes.

[MC: Come to think of it, you were messaging me all throughout the meeting.]

[MC: You didn't get in trouble because of it?]

I'm pretty sure that you're not supposed to use your D.D.D. during meetings.

[Asmodeus: Lucifer noticed, of course, but he knows who I'm talking to, so he didn't voice any objections.]

[Asmodeus: And Lord Diavolo is not in any position to criticize me for my use of D.D.D. during this meeting.]

A very uneasy feeling creeps over me.

[MC: What do you mean by that?]

[Asmodeus: I mean that Lord Diavolo has been glued to his D.D.D. ever since this meeting started, himself.]

MC: ?!

[MC: Are you serious?]

[MC: There's no way.]

[MC: Tell me you're joking!]

[Asmodeus: I know, right? Unbelievable.]

[Asmodeus: None of us has ever seen him act this way before. This is unprecedented.]

[Asmodeus: I suppose he's antsy about tomorrow's meeting, even if he doesn't show it.]

[Asmodeus: Even during my own presentation, which I assure you was a most dire emergency, Lord Diavolo was signing papers while most of his attention was on his D.D.D.]

[Asmodeus: He's almost as good at multitasking as I am!]

MC: ...

[Asmodeus: Why, even right now, he is maintaining a shield against Lucifer's attacks with one hand, while checking his D.D.D. at the same time.]

Quietly, I close my eyes and slump against the pillows. The D.D.D. slips out of my hand.

I don't even feel upset. I feel nothing at all. My head feels so perfectly empty, I can even hear faint ringing in my ears.

I am in shock.

So this is what 2000% spiritual damage feels like.

I've been outplayed.

Maybe...Diavolo checking his D.D.D. all of a sudden... was just a coincidence...

No. Even I don't possess the power of denial sufficient enough to make myself believe that.

He's definitely read my conversation with Luke before it got erased.

I really want to turn around and hide in my room for a couple of thousand years, but I already promised Diavolo I would show up...

I don't know where I'll get the strength to face him, however. This is way too humiliating.

_ding._

[Asmodeus: My dear? Are you still there?]

[MC: Asmo. Have you had fun during the meeting?]

[Asmodeus: Of course! It was exhilarating. And very satisfying.]

[Asmodeus: Everyone else enjoyed themselves immensely, too.]

In that case, it wasn't a complete loss.

[Asmodeus: It's not every day we have Lord Diavolo so completely on the defensive.]

[Asmodeus: He wasn't even putting much of a resistance because he was so distracted by his D.D.D.]

Asmo, please don't rub salt in my wounds. I am working hard on not thinking about it.

[MC: I'm glad you had fun, but you should get out of the Council Room right now. It's not safe.]

[Asmodeus: But I want to watch Lord Diavolo fight Lucifer!]

[MC: Who do you think will have to repair the room once it's all over?]

[Asmodeus: You make an excellent point. It's better not be there when Lucifer is distributing the punishment and appointing the blame.]

[MC: Is Levi still unconscious?]

[Asmodeus: He's coming to.]

[MC: And Satan...]

[Asmodeus: He's awake and he's joined in the mayhem.]

[MC: On Lucifer's side or on Diavolo' side?]

[Asmodeus: On nobody's side. He's just wrecking the place.]

Let's leave Satan to it, then. It's good for him to let off some steam.

[MC: Take Levi with you when you escape. It doesn't sound like he's in any condition to dodge fireballs and lightning bolts.]

[Asmodeus: You're such a worrywart, my darling. Levi can take a few direct fireballs hits.]

[MC: I'd rather he didn't, regardless. He's had enough excitement for one day, I think.]

[Asmodeus: Hmph, fine.]

I am staring out of the window unseeingly, when something catches my attention.

That's a border checkpoint. A few demons are lined up in front of it. We're approaching the Upper Devildom, and we're going to cross the border between the tiers.

The carriage gains altitude. Clearly, the coachdemon intends to fly right over the checkpoint without even slowing down.

I sit up abruptly, and knock on the screen.

MC: Stop here. Go to the checkpoint.

I've just come up with a perfect, failsafe way to cancel my appointment with Diavolo, and blame it on extenuating circumstances.

MC: We're passing through the border control.


	87. A Dodgy Border Control

I expect to wait in line for a while, but for one reason or another, the clerk deals with the demons in front of my carriage in no time at all.

The clerk hands me a standard entry form. I reach my hand out of the carriage window and take it.

The moment I touch the form, there is a prickling sensation, and all my information is automatically filled.

There are only a few empty fields left.

I write "business" as the purpose of my visit, "Majolish" as my destination, and "undefined" as my current status in the Devildom.

Since the exchange program is already over, I am not supposed to be staying here. I was supposed to leave for the Human Realm days ago. Where the laws of the Devildom are concerned, I am nothing but an illegal immigrant with an expired visa.

This clerk here should have no reason to know anything about my circumstances. There's no reason to let me through based on my info alone. And even if he sends a request to the Council right now, asking for instructions on how to deal with me, the Council is currently...too preoccupied to reply, heh.

There is a very good chance that I will be denied entry to the Upper Devildom. With a bit of luck, I will be deported.

Once they send me away, I am never coming back. Under no circumstances shall I impose where my presence isn't wanted.

I sign the form and hand it back to the clerk, who only gives it a brief glance before writing something on the form and stamping it.

And then he stamps the form again. And again. And again...

MC: (How many stamps do you need to go to Majolish? Or is this how deportation works?)

Finally, the clerk stops, and hands the completed form back to me. It is covered in stamps entirely, and they all have different colors and shapes.

Clerk: Your entry permits are stamped here. Show this form at any checkpoints you come across. Your new status is written here.

My new status?

I look at the field he pointed at. The words there read:

_Updated Status: Liaison With the Grand Assembly. Duration: 24 hours. In effect starting now.  
_

MC: (Huh?)

I am a liaison with **the Grand Assembly**?

That...should be impossible. The members of the Grand Assembly don't meet humans, and they rarely even meet regular demons, either. Those ancient geezers stay in their pits most of the time. During my entire time in the multiverse, I have never even seen one of them.

MC: Is there some sort of mistake...?

The clerk pushes up his glasses.

Clerk: There is no mistake.

Clerk: From what I understand, you're meeting with the owner of Majolish, Magister Kerish, in a few minutes.

Clerk: Magister Kerish a top stylist and a member of the Grand Assembly. To allow you to meet him, your status has been temporarily elevated.

So much for being denied entry. This dodgy clerk already knows more about my upcoming meeting than I do.

MC: Where did you hear about my meeting? That's **private**.

Clerk: Lord Diavolo told me personally.

MC: ...

I've come up with that border checkpoint idea on the spot. But Diavolo has predicted my spontaneous plan this far in advance, and he has already installed his own agent here. He's got me in the palm of his hand.

This is **really irritating**.

Clerk: There is no need to give me that murderous glare. I am only doing my duty.

Clerk: I've been chosen for my discretion. Rest assured, I am not prone to gossip.

This must be one of Diavolo's personal minions. It's highly unusual to see Diavolo use anyone other than Barbatos. I should **remember** this "clerk".

MC: What is your **name**?

The clerk pushes up his glasses.

Clerk: I am not foolish enough to give my name to you.

Clerk: I don't want to spend the rest of my days hiding from the wrath of the Revenant.

I give him what I hope is a friendly smile, which only causes him to tense up even more.

MC: You're overthinking it. I just want to know your name, is all.

Clerk: I must inform you that, as a safety measure, my appearance has been altered, too.

MC: Is that so? But your habit of pushing up your glasses is really memorable.

Clerk: !

Clerk: Multitudes of demons wear glasses. You won't be able to identify me based on that.

MC: You're right.

MC: Once we part ways, I probably won't be able to find you again.

MC: Which means, if I want to have a **little conversation** with you, I should do it right now.

MC: Before you're gone.

Clerk: !!

Clerk: I must inform you that it's forbidden to threaten an officer on duty! There is a fine if you do that.

MC: I'll pay the fine.

I take out the King's black card, and the clerk's eyes widen.

MC: I'd like to make a purchase in advance, and in bulk. I want to be able to threaten anyone I come across. How much for a **thousand threats**?

Clerk: ...

The clerk is staring at the card in my hand. His expression isn't good.

Come to think of it, am I being too cheap? What is the whole range of prices here?

MC: Out of curiosity. How much for **assassinating an officer on duty**?

Clerk: ?!

POOF.

MC: ??

The clerk has just...disappeared on the spot.

He said he was chosen for his discretion, but I think he was chosen for his stealth.

I can hear surprised voices behind my carriage. The demons in line are expressing their confusion over the sudden disappearance of the clerk.

Well, no reason to linger here anymore. I call out to the coachdemon.

MC: We have our papers. Let's go.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the Celestial Realm, in Michael's office...

Simeon finishes unloading his scroll of sweets and arranging all the sweets in heaps inside the office.

Michael gives the arrangement one satisfied look, then rings his bell.

The door opens, and the angel secretary pokes his head in.

Angel Secretary: Oh, so many confections! Is this the **tribute** from the Devildom?

Michael: There are **way too many**.

Michael: How am I ever supposed to eat them all?

Michael gestures at the boxes of sweets piled on top of paperwork all over the table and stacked up on the chairs and the floor, and he gives a dramatic shrug.

Angel Secretary: We'll help!

The door opens wider, and several angels, who have apparently been listening at the door, topple inside.

Michael: Well, if you insist...

As though waiting for an invitation, the angels rush in. Within seconds, Michael's office is crowded.

Angel Officer: I'll have a slice of that cake. The one decorated with lizards. No, two slices. Actually, hands off my entire cake, I'll give to my squad.

Angel Bookkeeper: Dibs on that box of chocolates. What's it called, Sumptuous Seduction? Not bad!

Angel Healer: I commandeer this entire supply of honey for my baking experiments. It has an unusually high concentration of natural healing elements. Those who want to observe the progress of my healing candy's development can come and taste my weekly reports.

Angel Secretary: Is that the authentic Devildom Wicked Berry? I've heard it's really energizing. I had no idea that it was in season right now. Don't mind if I do!

Meanwhile, Simeon is going methodically through the entire arrangement, taking a little of each box and placing it on his tray, with an obvious intention of bringing it to Luke.

Michael observes the gathering. Almost immediately, he notices a single unopened box which everyone seems to ignore.

Michael: ?

He takes the box, and with a flare of light, the spell on it disappears.

Michael: (A concealment charm, tailored to my diagram of virtues.)

Michael: (Easy enough to set up if you've seen my diagram, and it's not like there is another angel out there who has the same distribution of virtues as I do.)

Michael: (Was this meant for me personally?)

He opens the box. Inside, he finds a variety of confections, carefully put together from different collections, and a card.

The message on the card reads, in a precise formal script:

_Thank you for taking care of Luke._

Michael: (I should be the one saying that.)

Michael: ...

Michael turns the card over.

There is another message on the other side.

_Next time you have a duel, I will be your second._

Michael: Hah!

Angel Messenger: Excuse me. Coming through. Pardon me. I'm here with a message for Michael.

Angel Messenger: Is Michael here?

Michael: Speak.

Angel Messenger: The inspectors from the Sunburnt Grove arrived, and they're waiting at the gates. They're reporting —

Michael: (I'll hear out their report in person. I can't wait to get out of this stuffy office!)

Michael pushes the window open and sits on the windowsill. For a moment, all voices in the office quiet, as everyone looks at him.

Michael unfolds his grand golden wings. There is a flare of bright light and a powerful gust of wind. Papers are flying everywhere, as the angels hug their boxes of sweets protectively.

Still holding his own box of confections, Michael takes flight, and he's gone.

Angel Messenger: — they're reporting...huh?

Angel Secretary: He's gone already. You'll get used to that.

Angel Healer: I have to say, the Devildom is not completely worthless, if they managed to produce this sort of honey and this berry too. Both can be used for healing confections.

Angel Secretary: Keep your grabby hands off my Wicked Berry. You're going to do **taste testing** , I just know it.

Angel Healer: It's for the good of the Celestial Realm!

Angel Secretary: Well, I want to try brewing this berry into a restorative. I often have to pull all-nighters on this job, and I need something to keep me awake and focused. There's enough berries here to produce a whole cellar of restoratives. That would be useful for everyone working here, especially now.

Angel Officer: I'm surprised that not a single item here is poisoned. I thought I would see at least one Curse.

Angel Bookkeeper: Perhaps the Devildom has finally learned the concept of **gratitude.** Or maybe this is even an **apology**. In such an improbable case, the whole Scales incident was not in vain.

Angel Secretary: Even if it's just a **bribe** , that's not bad either, for demons. I can taste their good intentions.

Angel Officer: I still think — (munch, munch) — Michael is overly optimistic — (munch, munch) — about the Border City.

Angel Secretary: Your words would carry more weight if you weren't munching on that lizard cake as you spoke them.

Simeon: (Finally, a little break in Michael's valley of orders.)

Simeon: (I hope the Grove report will keep his attention for a while.)

Carrying his full tray of sweets, Simeon slinks out of the office.

Behind him, he can hear the secretary speaking to the messenger.

Angel Secretary: Don't just stand here, have a candy. It's the tribute from the Devildom!


	88. Picture Mayhem

I have to say, I'm really curious about meeting a member of the Grand Assembly. What is Magister Kerish like? Does he even have a human form? What would be the point of having one, if he never meets humans?

The Grand Assembly comprises ancient demons of immense power and influence. They don't get involved in politics as a matter of principle, but everyone listens to their opinion anyway. It turns out that one of them is a stylist. And I'm even going to meet him in person.

Visiting this reality was not a complete waste of time, after all.

I better not mess things up this time. Let's make sure that this occasion, at least, does not end in complete chaos.

Other than Magister Kerish, Diavolo will be there, too...

I am trying not to think about Diavolo.

By the time we approach the shopping district, I have almost managed to convince myself that Diavolo had never read my conversation with Luke, and the whole thing with him checking his D.D.D. at the same time was just a coincidence.

I mean, he must have tons of people who talk to him on the D.D.D. Tons. This doesn't have to be about me. I am being way too self-centered and paranoid.

And even if, by pure accident, he has seen something, the whole conversation with Luke is now erased, so there's no proof. I'm going to convince him with my behavior that he had imagined the whole thing.

First, let's get into a proper mindset. And by that, I mean a mindset where Diavolo is no longer on my mind.

I need a distraction.

As usual, I take out my D.D.D. and start browsing pictures of Mammon.

Absentmindedly, I click on one of the pictures and unlock a different perspective.

MC: !

Hey. Isn't that **Diavolo's hand**?

Yes, for sure! Mammon is being crowned by him. That hand belongs to Diavolo!

Why, WHY is it here? What is Diavolo's hand doing in Mammon's picture?? How am I supposed to get into a **proper mindset** like that?

Gah! It seems I have no other choice. Time for my ultimate fail-safe measure.

I unlock the triple-encrypted folder and start browsing pictures of Lucifer.

MC: ?!

I pause while staring at one of the pictures.

Hey, hey. Isn't that **Diavolo's hand** again?

Of course it is!

I have completely forgotten about that picture...! It's the one where they're drinking together. Lucifer, why did you have to fail me like that?!

I really, really wanted to avoid it, but it has come to this. I need someone else's pictures. Right now.

I'll have to make a request I did not want to make.

Which one of them shall I ask? Levi, Satan, or Asmo?

Satan should be preoccupied in the Council Room right now. That means, it's a choice between Asmo and Levi.

Asking Levi is a little dangerous (for him), but at least he wouldn't be acting smug about it like Asmo. I don't think my pride can take any more hits today. Asking Levi is safer for me. Hopefully he will keep this request to himself, regardless of his response.

I haven't messaged Levi in a while, and the first thing I'm sending is a request. I am aware this is poor form, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

[MC: Hey, Levi.]

[Leviathan: ?!]

[Leviathan: YES!]

[Leviathan: I mean, yes?]

I have startled him, but there is no helping it. Let's just push through regardless. I need to get the words out before I change my mind.

[MC: Do you mind if I gaze upon your pictures while lying in bed and fantasizing about you?]

[MC: It helps me relax.]

[MC: Also, do you mind if I start collecting all available pictures of you in this multiverse?]

[MC: If you don't mind any of that, please send me a picture of yourself.]

[MC: Give me your answer now. It's an emergency.]

There is no reply.

[MC: Is that a no?]

[MC: Hey, Levi. At least say something.]

_ding._

[Asmodeus: Oh, my dear.]

[Asmodeus: What are you doing? You can't just spring something like that on him without any warning whatsoever.]

Has Asmo read my message to Levi?

I...was hoping to avoid that.

[MC: Where's Levi?]

[Asmodeus: He's passed out again.]

Just as I feared...

[Asmodeus: That was too much for him to handle. He became too overstimulated.]

[Asmodeus: With that sort of thing, you have to gradually ease him into it.]

[Asmodeus: At least say hello first. Then proceed with a little small talk. Then start off slowly by complimenting his appearance. Then...]

[MC: I don't have the time for all that. The situation's urgent. I need Levi's picture right now.]

[Asmodeus: Does it have to be Levi's picture specifically?]

[MC: Well...no. I just thought I'd ask him.]

[MC: Although I'd really like to have his picture.]

[Asmodeus: Well, my dear, I am sorry to say that, but Levi is a wrong person to ask in an emergency.]

[Asmodeus: It's far more efficient to ask...someone else, instead.]

[Asmodeus: You get me? wink, wink, nudge, nudge]

Asmo's right.

[MC: I'm sorry, Levi.]

[MC: Forget everything I've said just now.]

[MC: I'll ask someone else instead.]

_ding._

[Asmodeus: My darling...that's not how you do it...]

[MC: What do you mean?]

[Asmodeus: Levi has come to, and the first thing he did was grab his D.D.D.]

[Asmodeus: Then he saw your new message, and it plunged him into the depths of despair.]

[Asmodeus: He lied back down on the floor, and he refuses to open his eyes again.]

MC: ...

[Asmodeus: If you wanted to torment him, you chose the most efficient method to do it.]

[Asmodeus: I compliment your excellent torture technique.]

Levi was a **really wrong** person to ask in an emergency. I realize that now. I even got complimented by Asmo on my torture technique, which is bad.

_ding._

Oh? It's a **private chat**. Between Mammon and Levi. And it looks like Asmo took advantage of Levi's weakened state to add himself to the chat, as well.

I have to read that.

[Mammon: Levi, guess what?]

[Mammon: Earlier, I told our human that I had your picture, and when I didn't show it right away, our human wrestled me for it.]

[Leviathan: ?!]

[Mammon: And here ya thought that our human didn't want a picture of ya. Obviously it's the opposite.]

[Leviathan: ?!]

[Asmodeus: Mammon, don't spread out lies. You can't joke about that sort of thing.]

[Asmodeus: Our human, wrestling you for Levi's picture? As if such a thing would ever happen. Ha. Ha. HA.]

[Mammon: But it really happened.]

[Leviathan: ?!]

[Asmodeus: No it didn't, no it didn't!]

[Asmodeus: Liar!]

[Mammon: It really did. I was there, and you weren't.]

[Leviathan: Wrestle, like...our human was on top of you, straddling you, and you were pressed really close together, pushing against each other, striving for dominance?]

[Mammon: ?!]

[Mammon: What are ya imaginin'? Stop it!]

[Mammon: D'AAAAAH, now I can't get that image out of my head!]

[Asmodeus: It didn't happen, it didn't happen!]

[Asmodeus: HOW DARE YOU, MAMMON! AND YOU, LEVIATHAN!]

[Mammon: Uh-oh. Watch out, Asmo's lost it!]

[Asmodeus: Mammon, that should've been me! ME!]

[Asmodeus: Why is it that YOU get to stay PHYSICALLY CLOSE to our human, while I can only talk on D.D.D.!]

[Leviathan: I can't even talk to our human on D.D.D., so what are you complaining about, Asmo? You're LUCKY.]

[Asmodeus: And you, Leviathan, why did YOU get asked for your picture!]

[Mammon: Levi, so ya finally got asked for your picture?]

[Leviathan: Y-yeah...]

[Asmodeus: Among other things!]

[Mammon: Other things...?]

[Leviathan: Y-yeah...]

[Asmodeus: After all this time, why you, Levi, and why you FIRST?]

[Mammon: Let's not forget that I was the first.]

[Asmodeus: Only because you're a model! It was pure luck!]

[Mammon: Ya call it luck, I call it fate.]

[Asmodeus: Shut up, Mammon!]

[Asmodeus: Even if you're the first, I should've been chosen next instead of Levi! It should've been me! ME! I am obviously a much better fit for this sort of request!]

[Leviathan: Obviously, our human disagrees with you.]

[Leviathan: And besides, I outrank you.]

[Asmodeus: Why do I have to lose to someone like you? You didn't even reply to our human's request. Why are you playing coy, not giving an answer?]

[Asmodeus: If you're sending your picture, then send it. If you're not sending it, then just say no!]

[Asmodeus: Stop dragging this out and hogging all attention. I know what game you're playing!]

[Leviathan: I'm not playing any game. I need to prepare to send a picture like that.]

[Asmodeus: "A picture like that"? You were only asked for a normal picture. What are you imagining, you dirty-minded otaku?]

[Asmodeus: Stop fantasizing and letting your imagination run away with you!]

[Mammon: You're one to talk, Asmo.]

[Leviathan: Yeah, Asmo, I don't want to hear that from you.]

[Asmodeus: Reply to our human right now and say you won't send your picture!]

[Leviathan: Nope. Not saying it. No way.]

[Asmodeus: Don't you understand that this matter is URGENT, or else our human never would've asked you?]

[Leviathan: I need time to compose a perfect shot of myself. That's not easy. I'm not photogenic like you, and I'm not a model like Mammon.]

[Leviathan: The shot has to be both tasteful and alluring. This is probably my only chance, so I can't waste it. Everything must be properly done.]

[Leviathan: I need to do research and mentally prepare myself.]

[Leviathan: I can't afford to make a mistake!]

[Asmodeus: You damned otaku, you're going to take too long to do it. This is too much for you, so why force yourself?]

[Leviathan: Even if it's painful, I will muddle through!]

[Asmodeus: Go crawl back into your room and stay in there for a thousand years! NEVER come out again!]

[Leviathan: No way, I want to venture forth and experience this ultra-hard-difficulty world!]

[Asmodeus: AAAAAAAAAH!]

_ding._

Asmodeus has sent me a nude picture of himself.

MC: GAH?!

This shocks me enough that my mind blanks out for a moment.

I have to take a few moments to recollect myself.

Okay, that picture did the trick. My mind has been...realigned. Or rather, reset back to factory state. I don't have any thoughts at all, the shock was that strong. That was completely unexpected.

Still, I have to say something. Asmo is waiting for my reaction, and it's only polite to respond.

Uh, what is the proper messaging etiquette upon receiving a nude picture?

I study the picture closer.

Upon closer inspection, the picture is only partially nude. It looks like Asmo half-removed his clothes in a hurry, but he didn't arrange them in any sort of tantalizing manner, so they're just undone haphazardly. He didn't even bother choosing a perfect angle or readjusting the filter.

Asmo is glaring at the camera. Yeah, he's definitely glaring at me. He is not pleased.

Did he take this picture just now? Don't tell me he stripped down in a fit of rage?

I sure hope there was nobody around him when he did that. Other than Levi, I mean. Poor Levi, he's had too much stimulation for one day.

I guess Asmo **really** didn't like it that I haven't asked him...

[MC: Thank you, Asmo. That really helped. I feel much better now.]

[Asmodeus: Hmph!]

[MC: I would've asked you for a picture instead of Levi, but I was afraid that your beauty would incapacitate me for the rest of the day.]

[Asmodeus: Hmph.]

[MC: Your beauty shines brighter than the stars, and even the moon is afraid to show her face in the presence of your radiance.]

Am I laying it on too thick here?

[Asmodeus: Hmph...]

Coachdemon: We have reached the shopping district. Carriages are forbidden past this point.

[MC: I have to go now. I'll talk to you later.]

[Asmodeus: Hmph!]

I disembark the carriage, and a surprising sight greets me.

MC: ?

What's going on?


	89. The Slime Day: the Harmless Human vs. the Lord of the Devildom

They seem to be having some sort of celebration there. Or maybe it's a competition. Or both. With demons, it's always hard to tell whether they're happy being together or if they want to destroy each other.

The whole area has been surrounded by multicolored banners. No wonder a carriage can't get past this point.

Wait, I think I know what event it is. I've seen it on my calendar before.

I take out my D.D.D. and check the calendar.

Yep, today is the Slime Day.

From what I remember, participants throw colorful slimes at each other, and the one who ends up slimed the most in the end wins. Or maybe loses. I can't quite recall.

This really reminds me of the Devil's Run. I visited that event before with Lucifer and the others, in a different reality. It feels so nostalgic.

Maybe I should go around this area, instead of passing through. It would be a bit of a detour, but I don't think the noble Magister Kerish will appreciate it if I show up for the meeting covered in ooze. I don't think I'd be able to pass it off as a fashion choice.

Still, I want to take a look. A really quick one.

I glance back over my shoulder and speak to the bodyguard.

MC: Don't follow me. Wait for me here, in the carriage.

The hooded demon bows.

I put on my own hood and step past the banners cautiously, entering the event area.

It certainly is quite lively here. A lot of slimes are being flung about, while unused slimes are crawling past slowly, ready for the picking. I keep close to buildings, trying to stay out of the way.

I wish I could observe the whole scene. If I still had wings, I'd be able to do it.

I can't believe I miss Michael's wings. I only had them for a short while, and I've already gotten attached to them. That mobility and field of view are pretty convenient — discounting that little part where your physical form ends up destroyed.

I look up. There's a skyway up there I could use.

I climb the staircase up to the skyway.

This is much better. I have a view of the entire place.

At a glance, it becomes clear that demons who walk in the middle of the main road are getting targeted the most, and those who try to stay out of the way are generally ignored. It looks like there are quite a few demons who want to cut through this area to get to their destination without participating in the game.

Even up there on the skyway, there are numerous slimes crawling about. There are even a few demons up there, who are using the skyway as a perch to observe the happenings, just like I do. They ignore my appearance.

I should probably get moving. It's getting close to my appointment. If I go through this area while keeping away from the main road, I should get to my destination relatively slime-free, and I'll be able to take a shortcut, too. This will save me a little bit of time.

Let's see, Majolish should be that way.

And then I notice someone else.

MC: !

Down below, a demon is moving through the crowd, walking right in the middle of the main road.

That's Diavolo.

Apparently, he had the same idea as I did, and he decided to take a shortcut through the event area. Unlike me, however, he doesn't bother to hide himself.

He appears absorbed in his thoughts, and he isn't even paying any attention to his surroundings. He's just walking right through the thick of the action, completely ignoring the participants, as though this entire game does not even exist.

As usual, nobody dares to target Diavolo. He doesn't even get a speck of a colorful slime on his uniform. The demon participants are giving him a wide berth.

Such complacency...might lead to one's downfall.

MC: (eyes flash with malice)

Maybe an accidental **sliming** or two will teach him to be more on his guard next time.

It's not like I hold a grudge or anything. Not at all. It's just, what if I was carrying a slime around, and my hand just **slipped**?

Let's see, if I go this way, at the rate he's going, we should cross ways about there...

I pick up a nearby purple slime and roll it up into a smooth, slippery ball. The slime wobbles gently.

No, this is not enough. This slime is too small.

I'm pretty sure I'll only get one shot at this, so I better make it count.

I add a yellow slime to this one. They roll together nicely, adhering together into a larger perfect ball. Even their colors mix together evenly.

Hm, this awakens my academic curiosity. How far can I go with my slimeball?

As I move along the skyway, I keep adding more and more slimes to my slimeball. Soon, it becomes so large that I can no longer carry it, because it's too slippery, and I have to roll it in front of me like a snowball.

The slimes who notice my approaching ball try to slither away as fast as they can go. Which is to say, not very fast.

Soon, all the slimes on the skyway are consumed by my growing slimeball, which is still quite easy to roll. The only problem is that the slimeball has grown so huge that it has started to obscure my field of vision, and I have to glance down often, to make sure that we're still on the right track, and that Diavolo is still in my view.

My ridiculously huge slimeball draws the attention of the observing demons, who offer an unwelcome commentary.

Ragged Demon: Huhuhu, who is this slimeball for?

MC: No one. I just like rolling a slimeball around. Nothing to see here...

Demon in a Suit: Kekeke, that's one huge slimeball. Someone's about to get slimed!

MC: I'm just rolling it to exercise my arms. Never mind me.

Bespectacled Demon: Muahaha, this slimeball will fall and make a big splash. Can't wait to see who the lucky loser is.

MC: If it falls, then it falls. It's because of gravity. Those who walk below can always dodge, if they pay attention to the game.

Finally, I reach my chosen intersection, where I hide behind a railing. Not that it's possible to hide, with this immense slimeball in front of me.

Diavolo is only a few steps behind me. He is approaching my location, walking steadily in the middle of the main road as before. He's not looking up, or around him at all. I don't think he even sees the road in front of him.

Up close, I finally realize that he is absorbed in checking his D.D.D.

I can feel the gazes of demons on my back. I'd rather they didn't watch what's about to go down.

At last, mine and Diavolo's paths converge.

Just as Diavolo passes under my skyway, I push the slimeball off.

The slimeball plummets down, stretching itself in the process.

**SPLASH.**

It's a perfect hit.

The slimeball engulfs Diavolo completely.

Diavolo is drenched in ooze from head to toe, so entirely that it's impossible to tell who he is, and what he's wearing anymore.

Diavolo stops dead in his tracks.

And then he just...stands there. Oozing.

MC: ?

There's no reaction from him. He is perfectly still.

Was he that shocked by a sudden slimeball? Or could it be — don't tell me that he is weak to slimes, and he got hurt?

MC: !

I peek out from behind my railing for a better look at him.

In a blur of a motion, Diavolo throws something at me.

MC: ?!

I barely manage to flatten myself against the railing in time. A slime hits the railing next to my arm, and disintegrates into particles.

Why does he retaliate?! Just quietly take a loss!

But I have no time to contemplate this question, because Diavolo is throwing my own slimes back at me at such a rapid-fire, forceful way, that the whole skyway shakes and trembles.

Well, at least it looks like he's perfectly fine!

MC: (I'm a sitting duck up there! There's barely any cover here at all. I need to get down!)

I can't fly, but I can fall pretty slowly. I made some talismans after the whole ordeal with falling to the bottom of the Abyss.

I take out two paper talismans with my both hands, and they burn to ashes, engulfing my arms with concentrated Prime.

I turn invisible, and jump off the skyway.

The Prime around my arms flattens out, slowing down my fall. I glide down quickly, maneuvering myself around a corner of a building. When I'm close to the landing, I stretch out my arms, and plunge into the resulting cloud of Prime like into a soft pillow.

There is a loud screeching sound coming from above. I look up.

MC: ?!

The skyway is crumbling down.

Don't tell me that Diavolo collapsed this whole skyway using nothing but slippery slimes? Just how much momentum is he applying to his throws? He's not holding back at all!

I better hightail out of here. I don't have a spare uniform, or a spare life.

Not to mention, I don't want to be caught behaving in such a childish manner. Once he identifies his attacker, it would be difficult to blame this whole thing on a mere **accident**.

Just as I'm thinking that, a slime hits the wall next to me.

MC: !

Let's get moving!

Under the cover of my invisibility, I move from shadow to shadow.

I should be careful, because I still have my physical form. I haven't turned into a phantom because it's an option of last resort — it consumes too much power, so I can't do it often.

There is a time limit on how long I can stay this way. I can't waste a single second.

The fallen skyway has blocked the main road, so I'm clearly being herded over to the alley. Obviously, I shouldn't go that way.

But if I circle around this whole intersection, I would be able to move closer to the building next to it. From above, I noticed that there is a narrow passage there, which should allow me to get away.

Diavolo continues flinging slimes around at random. Several times I have to duck because of a slime whooshing in my direction. Just a little more, and I'll slip into that passage, and then I'll escape.

Geez, he's going way overboard with this. Why did I use such a huge slimeball? I gave him too much ammunition.

The entire pavement is covered in colorful slimes now. I am slipping as I'm moving.

The entire...pavement.

I stop and look down. A chill runs down my spine.

My footsteps are leaving visible imprints on the colorful floor.

That throwing wasn't random. Diavolo was trying to reveal my presence by painting the floor.

He knows exactly where I am now.

I turn around — towards a large ball of slime flying at me.

MC: Dammit!

I dodge to the side — too late. The slimeball hits me square in the shoulder.

The ooze covers at least half of me. My cloak gets the worst of it, but some ooze splatters on the sleeve of my uniform.

In pure frustration, I turn into a phantom, and dematerialize on the spot.


	90. A Picture of Diavolo

Directly after turning into a phantom, I regret it. Now I'm due for another long recharge just because I was a sore loser.

Well, whatever. What's done is done.

Scowling, I regard Diavolo.

He lost track of me when I dematerialized, and he stopped his attacks. Probably for the best. In my phantom form, I am untraceable and nearly invulnerable. My feet don't tread the ground.

Bells sound in the distance, and a voice announces the end of the game, calling for the participants to come and get their level of oozeness measured. The one who was slimed the most will receive the grand prize.

Diavolo turns around and starts sloshing towards the measuring booth.

He actually intends to participate?

That's unexpected. I thought he would use a cleaning spell on himself directly, and would continue on his way. He is risking being late for his Majolish appointment.

I take this opportunity to hover next to him and to study him closely. I want to enjoy my handiwork.

Even after using most of my slimeball for ammunition, Diavolo is still very much slimed and entirely drenched in ooze. Ooze is dripping down his body and trailing after him as he walks, leaving a colorful slimy trail behind him on the pavement.

At some point of time, he had turned into his true form. Even though his hair, face, and most of his body is slimed, the shape of his horns and his wings are still a dead giveaway. Not to mention, his eyes are instantly recognizable.

Demons are keeping away from him. He is creating a rather wide passage around him simply by walking. Although I'm not sure if it's because he's the Prince, or because he has too much slime on him.

I float up closer to him. This way, I can take advantage of Diavolo's convenient bubble of space, and I don't have to worry about anyone bumping into me in my phantom form. Even though I'm intangible, demons are bound to notice something on contact with a metaphysical entity that is still in possession of a soul.

From up close, the colored slime on him is visible in great detail.

This opportunity is too perfect to miss.

I float in front of him, take out my D.D.D. and snap a picture of a slimed Diavolo.

_click._

At this moment, Diavolo looks directly into my eyes.

MC: !

But then he looks away immediately.

I...must have imagined that.

I float to the side hurriedly, and send a message to Decimus.

[MC: You wanted a recent picture of Diavolo, right?]

[MC: Here's a current one.]

I send the picture of a slimed Diavolo to Decimus.

For several long moments, there is no reply. Then I notice an update on the Devilgram.

[Decimus has posted a picture of a slimed Diavolo.]

[Decimus: (like)]

[Decimus: It's a good look on him.]

[Decimus has shared the picture with the Demon King.]

[BigTail: (like)]

[BigTail: It's good to see you take interest in modern photography. It is time you moved on from ancient daguerreotypes.]

[Decimus has shared the picture with the Maar’s Association of Artisans.]

[Sariel: (like)]

[Sariel: A perfect picture to use as a reference for an official portrait.]

[Decimus has shared the picture with the Grand Assembly.]

[M.Kerish: (like)]

[M.Kerish: This is a bold fashion statement.]

[Decimus has shared the picture with everyone in the Devildom.]

Within seconds, the picture gathers millions of shares.

Diavolo is checking his D.D.D. as he walks. He seems to be struggling, because of his slimed fingers.

[LordDiavolo: (like)]

MC: !

He saw the picture. I wonder if he figured out how it was taken?

The picture of a slimed Diavolo keeps gathering shares with each passing second. The number of shares has already passed a billion. But only a handful of demons are bold enough to leave a like. And none seem willing to leave a comment.

This silent, distant situation...makes me feel bad for him.

[HarmlessHuman: (like) (smirk)]

[HarmlessHuman: Wonder if this level of oozeness will be worthy of the grand prize?]

_ding._

Oh shoot, my D.D.D. is so loud!

Hurriedly, I mute my D.D.D. and glance at Diavolo. His expression didn't seem to change, although it's hard to tell because of all the slimes.

Whew, he didn't seem to have noticed the sound.

What was that _ding_ about?

Oh. I have received a reply to my comment.

It's from Diavolo!

[LordDiavolo: I'm on my way to the measuring booth right now. We'll know in a few minutes.]

[Decimus: So this happened during the Slime Day festival?]

[LordDiavolo: That's right. I was minding my business, just passing through, when I was viciously assaulted by the biggest slimeball I have ever seen.]

[LordDiavolo: It was a most underhanded, cunning stealth attack. I fell victim to a nefarious scheme.]

[LordDiavolo: I wasn't able to defend myself at all, and I didn't see it coming. Before I knew what was happening, I was already slimed.]

[Decimus: It was bound to happen eventually. You've grown too complacent and stopped paying attention to your surroundings. Take this as a wake-up call. Better a friendly slime during a festival than an unseen arrow in the dark.]

[HarmlessHuman: Hear, hear!]

I add (like), (heart), and (flower) to Decimus' comment.

[HarmlessHuman: This sort of thing will happen if you walk in the middle of the road through the festival area while not looking around. An accidental slimeball will fly in your direction, and you'd be too distracted to dodge.]

[LordDiavolo: That slimeball was too big to be accidental.]

MC: ...

[M.Kerish: HarmlessHuman, you seem to be well informed of what happened.]

[HarmlessHuman: I'm at the Slime festival right now.]

[M.Kerish: This explains why Lord Diavolo hasn't arrived at Majolish yet.]

[LordDiavolo: My apologies for the delay. I will be fifteen minutes late.]

[HarmlessHuman: Me too. Sorry about that, my uniform is oozing.]

[M.Kerish: No matter, I need more time to prepare anyway.]

[M.Kerish: Human, so you too were slimed?]

[HarmlessHuman: Yeah, I was.]

[HarmlessHuman: I was hiding behind a railing, hoping to avoid confrontation, when I was targeted by a barrage of unrelenting strikes.]

[HarmlessHuman: The demon who attacked me went all out and didn't hesitate to use both force and experience to his full advantage. He got lucky with a random strike, and by pure accident, I ended up slimed.]

[LordDiavolo: By pure accident?]

[HarmlessHuman: There are many unscrupulous demons out there who will use their strength against a lone, defenseless human, without any provocation whatsoever.]

[LordDiavolo: Without any provocation?]

[Decimus: HarmlessHuman, I'm glad you had fun.]

I add (like), (heart), and (flower) to Decimus' comment.

[HarmlessHuman: Heheh.]

[LordDiavolo: This difference in treatment is really unfair. Decimus, you're biased.]

[M.Kerish: Human, if you were at the festival when this happened, perhaps you were present when Lord Diavolo got slimed?]

[HarmlessHuman: Magister, why are you asking?]

[M.Kerish: By any chance, did you take a picture or a video of the confrontation? I am asking out of academic curiosity.]

[M.Kerish: I am wondering how this kind of a big slimeball could be formed and sent flying. Slimes are rather slippery, after all, so they're more difficult to throw the larger they are. And although they're adhesive at first, they tend to separate after a few moments.]

They tend to separate? The pressure from the rolling slimeball must have kept them glued together. Or maybe they got confused from spinning around, and decided they're one entity, after all.

[HarmlessHuman: M.Kerish, I was too preoccupied with my own predicament to take videos when that happened.]

[HarmlessHuman: There might've been other eyewitnesses, however. I wonder if any of them dare to share?]

There is a brief pause.

[Anon666 has posted a video in a comment below.]

It's a video of me rolling a slimeball. My face is hooded. I keep rolling it on the skyway, then I reach the intersection and stop.

It's a little strange to see from the side. On the video, I keep stretching my neck out, watching Diavolo approaching below. Then, when I judge the timing is right, I give the slimeball a vigorous push.

Oh...at this moment, my hood has shifted, revealing my face. I didn't even notice.

I guess there's no point in hiding my identity anymore.

The video stops right after the slimeball splashes Diavolo, which I am grateful for, because what follows would only be a record of my shame.

[Anon666: Huhuhu, that huge slimeball found its target.]

Instantly, this video gathers shares, likes, hearts, wide-eyed emoticons, and those emoticons of a demon laughing its horns off.

The reactions seem to be much more unrestrained, this time. I guess they're not as wary of a human.

A lively, intellectual discussion starts in the comments to the video, discussing the quality of a big slime (Is slime solid or liquid? Which qualities does a slime display under different circumstances? Does it gain new qualities as a conglomerate? How does pressure and rotation work to compose a new, upgraded slime entity, etc.)

This academic discussion is occasionally interrupted by random emoticons of a demon laughing its horns off.

[M.Kerish: That was very informative. Not to mention entertaining.]

[LordDiavolo: That lucky hit was just a fluke.]

[HarmlessHuman: A fluke?]

[LordDiavolo: Yes. I was taken by surprise. The same thing would never work on me again.]

[LordDiavolo: If a rematch were to happen, I definitely wouldn't lose.]

[LordDiavolo: I would win with an overwhelming advantage.]

[HarmlessHuman: If a rematch were to happen, you would suffer a decisive loss.]

[HarmlessHuman: And I would claim an undisputed victory. Definitely.]

[LordDiavolo: Bold words.]

[LordDiavolo: I wonder if you're willing to back them with action?]

[LordDiavolo has sent me a link to a page.]

On that page, I find a description of a fluffy-looking strategy game, which is played between two opponents, using gigantic plushies as playing pieces.

I scan the rules quickly. So aligning three plushies like this will cause the horns on the middle one to grow. And once an entire team grows horns, the game's over, and the team has lost.

You are allowed to use a little bit of magic while dragging those plushies about. If, for some reason, you fail to move your piece, you lose your turn.

The game itself is a series of challenges between various participants happening a few days from now. It should still be possible to register for it.

[HarmlessHuman: I'll win this game against you, I'll claim the prize, and I'll add it to my collection.]

[HarmlessHuman: And I'll post a picture of me holding the prize on the Devilgram, for everyone to see.]

[LordDiavolo: That's a lot of confidence for someone who doesn't stand a chance against me.]

[HarmlessHuman: Prepare to suffer a loss. I'll send you a formal challenge shortly.]

[LordDiavolo: I can't wait!]

[AsmoBaby: Lord Diavolo, have a little consideration. At least finish this date first, before scheduling the next playdate already!]

[Mammoney: Is this gonna be the start of a days-long rivalry?]

[stn: Mammoney, it might last much longer than that.]

[stn: You have no idea how competitive this human can be.]

[HarmlessHuman: There will be no rivalry. I'm going to win decisively next time, and that's going to be the end of it.]

[LordDiavolo: We'll see. :) ]

[HarmlessHuman: !]

Don't you use a smile against me! That's not fair!

Meanwhile, Diavolo approaches the measuring booth, where his slimeness is greeted with chuckles, stares, grins, and even applause, before he's ushered in.

I should probably get my level of oozeness measured, too. My level cannot compare to Diavolo's, but perhaps I would qualify for a consolation prize.

I return to my physical form and line up at the nearby measuring booth.


	91. Defeated

_ding._

[HarmlessHuman has posted a picture on Devilgram.]

It's a picture of me, slime-free as a result of a cleaning spell, and hugging a red plushie demon with tail and horns to my chest.

#SlimeDay, #SecondPrize, #IWontLoseAgain

Asmodeus has posted a response to my picture.

[AsmoBaby: Cute, cute, cute! Cuteness overload!]

MC: ...

The demon brothers often refer to me as "cute". I am the very opposite of cute, however. I can only assume one of the two things: 1) they're thinking about Lilith while talking about me, or 2) Asmo is in fact talking about the demon plushie.

[HarmlessHuman: Yeah, that demon plushie is pretty huggable.]

[stn: Congratulations on your second prize.]

[HarmlessHuman: Thank you. This is the only time I won't be the first, because on the Slime Day, the prizes are granted in reverse.]

[L3V1: I want to possess that demon plushie and live as a spirit inside it.]

MC: ...

Can they actually do that, possess a stuffed toy instead of a human? Also, is it just me, or has Levi suddenly grown bolder?

[Belphie: I was just about to type the same thing. You were only a fraction of a second faster.]

[L3V1: My typing speed is unmatched. Of course I'd be faster than some lazybones.]

[Beelzeburger: Good idea. The one who possesses that plushie will be hugged by our human like this.]

[Lucifer: All possession of stuffed toys is hereby forbidden.]

[Mammoney: Right on, Lucifer! I was just about to type the same thing!]

[Belphie: Spoilsport.]

[stn: I don't think we should feel the need to always do what Lucifer tells us to, no questions asked.]

[stn: This is one such occasion where we need to discuss things with everyone first before deciding what's forbidden and what's not.]

[Mammoney: @stn, I have a question. How are ya typin' so eloquently while hangin' upside down from the ceiling?]

[Mammoney: I just wanna take some pointers, for the future. First of all, aren't your arms tied up?]

_ding._

[LordDiavolo has posted a picture on Devilgram.]

It's a picture of Diavolo, slime-free, and hugging a ginormous slimeball plushie with a happy smile on his face.

#SlimeDay, #GrandPrize, #INeverLose

That huge slimeball plushie...the festival stuff did that on purpose, I'm sure. It was tailor-made to commemorate his spectacular loss. Or, where the Slime Day is concerned, victory. During this festival, it's kinda hard to tell a victory from a loss.

MC: ...

Diavolo looks so happy with his grand prize. Just looking at him beaming like that lifts my mood and puts me at ease. I can't help but smile too.

In the end, I'm just glad he had fun.

MC: (blink)

I don't know how long I stood here in a daze, gazing at the picture of Diavolo. But at some point of time, and without even being aware of it, I have reacted to his picture with a heart.

MC: ?!

MC: Gah, undo, undo! Quickly replace that heart with a congratulations goblet!

I fumble with my D.D.D. and the Devilgram closes. I am returned to my home screen, and my eyes fall upon the clock.

MC: Wait, WHAT time is it?

Fifteen minutes have gone, just like that!

MC: This is all because of Diavolo, and the paralyzing power of his smile — !

Forget the heart, I better start sprinting — I'm about to be late!

I turn into a phantom (in for a penny, in for a pound), and dash down the street at the speed of thought, only pausing briefly once in order to purchase a pair of cheap mirror sunglasses from a street stall.

I make it to Majolish just as the bells start tolling.

MC: (Barely in time!)

My phantom form is already flickering, running out of power. I return to my physical form, and put the mirror sunglasses on.

These sunglasses are my option of last resort. They conceal the wearer's eyes completely, and you can only see your own reflection if you look at them. This way, even if I'm gazing at Diavolo, he won't know it, and he won't be able to see the expression in my eyes. This way, at least, I won't bother him.

The doors of Majolish open just as I'm approaching them.

Diavolo stands in the doorway, bathed in moonlight.

Diavolo: Here you are, just in time.

Diavolo is smiling at me. Don't let my brain turn into mush! Think about something else instead — think about Asmo!

Diavolo: I thought you were going to be —

Diavolo's gaze moves to my eyes, and the smile freezes on his lips.

MC: ?

For a moment, he is perfectly still. Then, abruptly, he steps forward, reaches out, and takes my sunglasses off.

MC: ?!

In an instant, Diavolo crushes my sunglasses in his hand.

I am staring back at him in complete shock. He is smiling again, as though nothing had happened.

Diavolo: This way. Magister Kerish is waiting.

Oi, oi. Aren't you going to **explain yourself**?

This is definitely not normal Diavolo behavior. I mean, I know how Solomon said that this version of him is a Reflection, but still...!

Numbly, I step through the doors to follow him. He casually tosses the broken fragments of my sunglasses into the trash bin.

MC: M-my — my **sunglasses**!

Diavolo: In the Devildom, you can't wear something that conceals your eyes to a meeting with high nobility.

MC: ...! ...!!

MC: This is the first time I'm hearing this...!

Diavolo: Yes, I would imagine this is the first time you're meeting with a member of the Grand Assembly.

Diavolo: Magister Kerish is rather tolerant and progressive in general, but he is still a traditionalist in many ways. Besides, it is only proper to show him respect.

Diavolo: Have Barbatos fill you in on the etiquette later.

MC: ...

I've travelled across countless worlds and visited countless alternative realities of the Devildom, both of the present and of the far, ancient past. But this is the first time that I got **etiquette** mentioned to my face.

Completely demoralized and hugging my demon plushie tightly to my chest, I follow Diavolo in silence. I never noticed that before, but Diavolo is pretty good at guilt-tripping people, especially when he's displeased.

MC: (All right, I get the etiquette thing, but did he have to **absolutely pulverize** them?)

Deprived of my protective mirror sunglasses without any warning whatsoever, I feel stripped bare. I don't have anything left with which to defend myself anymore...

We enter a brightly-lit studio, and a lanky, withered demon meets us.

This must be Magister Kerish.

I thought the King was old, but he is nothing compared to Magister Kerish. This demon looks ancient. His hair has been completely bleached by the sands of time, and his skin is like a thin, fragile parchment, delicate and ashen.

His eyes, however, bright and piercing, are burning with a cunning light of the depths.

Kerish: Lord Diavolo, welcome.

He turns his head, and his ancient gaze meets mine.

Kerish: Ah. A lower life-form is here, too.

Kerish: Nearly-late human, hello.


	92. Wings vs. Tail Debate

A lower life-form?

MC: Hello, Magister.

Kerish: To think that an amoeba like you would be daring enough to crawl into the Devildom.

It's an amoeba now?

For some reason, I have to suppress a sudden urge to laugh. My lips twitch.

Kerish: I'm surprised that someone like you even made it this far. Take care not to get eaten by a random lower demon, and hold on tight to your human soul.

I don't know why, but his manner of speech puts me at ease. If he's not polite, then I don't have to be polite either.

All thoughts of troublesome etiquette disappear from my mind.

MC: Ancient geezer, I too am surprised to see someone like you in the Upper Devildom.

MC: To think that you would crawl out of your pit into the moonlight. Take care not to get a moonburn, and don't break those brittle ancient bones.

Magister Kerish's eyelashes flicker. Next to me, I can hear Diavolo clear his throat.

Diavolo: Now that the greetings have been exchanged, let's proceed with the purpose of our meeting, shall we?

Magister Kerish inclines his head.

Kerish: Lord Diavolo, please stand inside this circle.

There is a large circle drawn in the center of the studio. Instinctively, I hold out my hand, blocking Diavolo from moving forward.

Diavolo: ...

Kerish: ...

MC: Wait a minute. Let me check this circle first.

Without waiting for a reply, I step closer to the circle and examine it.

At a glance, I identify it as belonging to illusion category, an appearance-altering formation. I've seen variations of it in _Phantasmagoria_.

Nothing seems to be wrong.

This thing is perfectly safe. I think Magister Kerish is planning to use it for creating illusions of potential outfits.

Kerish: Impudent worm, are you satisfied with your examination?

Oh, a worm is an upgrade from an amoeba, isn't it?

MC: How are you planning to power up this circle?

Illusion circles consume an ungodly amount of power, even more than sealing ones. A seal is easy — once you enclose it, it will maintain itself, and it will let nothing out, in theory.

Unless you were foolish enough to try and seal a grand sorcerer like Solomon, of course. Solomon is quite capable of breaking a seamless ouroboros formation and collapsing from the inside a kind of seal that can logically only be unlocked from the outside.

Magister Kerish raises his hand, and it's lit with a sinister dark light. A high concentration of Prime is pouring out, swirling around in a vortex on his palm.

Kerish: With my own power.

MC: ...

There is so much Prime radiating from Magister Kerish, I can hardly breathe. This demon...has a tremendous amount of personal power. Actually, he might have even more power than a Source does.

Satisfied with the expression on my face, Magister Kerish lowers his hand, extinguishing the vortex.

Diavolo: Shall I stand inside this circle now?

Diavolo sounds amused. I don't dare to look at him, for fear of seeing him laughing at my paranoia.

MC: (Don't laugh. If Lucifer learns that something happened to you while you were on a meeting with me, there won't be a reality left for me to hide in.)

MC: Yes, go ahead.

If Magister Kerish wanted to do something to Diavolo, he wouldn't need a circle.

Diavolo steps inside, and the circle lights up. Magister Kerish is glaring at me.

Kerish: Annoying louse, do you even possess the faculties for identifying this circle correctly?

I wonder if a louse is a more complex creature than a worm?

I contemplate his question for a moment.

At this point of time, I think I am capable of identifying correctly any circle in existence. The lack of magic power does not prevent one from studying theory, after all.

In addition to that, I am excellent at drawing circles. Drawing does not consume any magic power. Actually, witches and sorcerers often use their apprentices for drawings, to lay down a foundation for a complex spellwork. It's a boring and tedious work that requires nothing but patience and precision, and a lot of time.

I've done so much practice on that, there's nothing I can do better. I can draw a perfect chalk circle around myself in less than two seconds. This alone would've qualified me for being a warlock, if only I had any actual power to speak of.

Doing the routine drawing is one of the few things I have to offer as an apprentice, after all.

MC: Eh, I was just looking to see if this circle had any squiggles within squiggles.

A squiggle within a squiggle is a Coven nickname for Nmet, a weird squiggly symbol of abandonment and loss. It isn't used in circles often, with one notable exception being the circle of Arc Blaze (aka End Ways, aka Farewell), an incredibly lethal formation meant to utterly obliterate whatever entity that steps within it, completely removing that entity from the circle of life, and denying it even reincarnation.

I did not expect Magister Kerish to catch my obscure reference, but to my surprise, he does. His face flushes angrily at the insult, coloring his ashen skin in blotchy spots.

MC: ...Overpowered geezer, I don't really think you would do this sort of thing. With your strength, you don't need to resort to petty tricks. But this kind of circle can be easily tampered with, even after it's drawn.

Magister Kerish gives a loud snort. His complexion slowly returns back to normal.

Kerish: Now, if the buzzing fly would be quiet for a few moments, so that I can finally focus on my work?

A fly! I have gained wings — not bad. This is definitely an upgrade.

Diavolo chuckles. He doesn't seem to mind the tense atmosphere.

Magister Kerish raises his hands, and a control panel materializes in front of him. He presses several keys.

A flare of light runs across Diavolo's figure, and his outfit changes. His uniform is gone. Now, he is dressed all in black, wearing a tightly fitting shirt and trousers.

MC: !

This is the first time I'm seeing Diavolo wear casual.

Well, unless you count that time in his bedchamber. But I'm trying my hardest to forget that one occasion.

MC: He already looks great like that.

Diavolo: ...

Kerish: ...

Damn, did I say that out loud?

Magister Kerish clears his throat loudly, while Diavolo chuckles.

Kerish: This is nothing but a default outfit to confirm the calibration. A reset button, so to speak.

Kerish: **Of course** this is not one of the designs I was going to offer! It's too **basic** and **simple** for that.

MC: Oh.

Magister Kerish presses a few more keys, and now Diavolo is dressed in what I can only describe as a collection of boxes.

MC: Amazing. Diavolo looks good in anything.

MC: Even in this outfit.

Diavolo: ...

Kerish: ...

Magister Kerish blushes angrily again. I understand he's annoyed at my remark, but why is Diavolo blushing too? Gah, don't give me ideas — this is hard enough as it is!

MC: Magister, I give you points for an innovative approach, but I certainly hope you can do better than this.

Magister Kerish regains his speech.

Kerish: **This is not an outfit!**

Kerish: This is only a Prime foundation! A basic material for the illusion to work with! I haven't even **started** yet. **Of course** this is not one of the outfits I've designed — that should be **obvious**!

Kerish: Ignorant larva, stop commenting on my preparations and try to restrain your disappointment until you see what I can **really** do.

MC: Creative geezer, I want to be a centipede next.

Kerish: ...Shouldn't you strive to become a butterfly? I thought all humans liked cute things more than disgusting things.

MC: Hmm. It would be nice to have wings, but I think it's better to have a tail.

Diavolo: Is that so? But I think that wings are better.

Magister Kerish grimaces.

Kerish: Let us not start the ancient wings vs. tail debate. That never ends well.

Diavolo ignores the suggestion and addresses me instead.

Diavolo: You have an experience with both wings and a tail. Which one do you think is objectively superior?

Now even Magister Kerish is looking at me, clearly interested in my answer.

I consider Diavolo's question seriously.

MC: It's really hard to choose.

MC: Wings are very convenient. It's easy to get used to relying on them. Just the mobility itself can be life-saving, but there's also the bird-eye view which gives you a strategic edge.

MC: The protective power of wings is also not to be underestimated. Not only you can protect yourself, but also the others, as well. Moreover, wings can even be used offensively.

Diavolo: Just so.

Diavolo: Wings have simply too many advantages that cannot be matched by a tail.

Kerish: Hmph, what can a human possibly know?

MC: On the other hand, a tail is much more versatile. In close quarters, you can use it in many surprising ways. There is a tremendous tactical advantage, not to mention it's just viscerally satisfying, the way it easily triples your combat power.

MC: Depending on the position and the situation, a tail could easily trample wings. For example, underground, where there's little place to fly, or underwater.

MC: Besides, angels have wings too, but only demons have tails.

Kerish: My point exactly —!

Both Diavolo and I turn to look at him.

Kerish: Ahem. Excuse me. Do go on.

I think I know which side of the debate Magister Kerish is. I bet he has a tail in his true form.

MC: Last but not least, tail is better looking than wings.

MC: I mean, just look at Decimus' tail.

Kerish: (empathetically) I concur!

Diavolo: Really?

Without any warning whatsoever, Diavolo turns into his true form, obliterating the illusion in the process.

MC: ?!

I don't have the time to mentally prepare myself, and I receive a full blast of his demonic presence from up close.

This is the situation I've been so desperately trying to avoid! Now, I can do nothing but helplessly stare at him.

Diavolo unfolds his wings, creating a stir in the air. He is smiling, but there is an edge to that smile.

Diavolo: Why don't you both take a good look and tell me...

A strong gust of air buffets me, and I stagger on my feet.

Diavolo: Which aspect of **my wings** is lacking?


	93. Trying on Outfits

MC: N-nothing is lacking! Y-you look stunning as always!

Diavolo: Is that so? But haven't you said just now that my wings are inferior to Decimus' tail?

MC: I didn't say that!

Did I? What were we even talking about? My thoughts are jumbled completely.

Kerish: Lord Diavolo, since your outfit has to be tailored to your true form, why don't we take this opportunity to start?

Diavolo doesn't assent, but he doesn't decline either.

MC: (Get yourself together, you're staring!)

There is a _flash_ of light, and Diavolo's outfit changes.

MC: !!

If asked to describe the details of this outfit, I couldn't do it. I can't focus on the details, and even the overall impression escapes me. All I can tell is that this outfit enhances Diavolo's presence until it becomes too bright for my eyes.

Kerish: How is it?

I raise my hand to shield my eyes.

MC: Too bright! I can't even look at him directly.

Magister Kerish takes a note in his notepad.

Kerish: Then, how about this instead?

_flash._

The new outfit enhances Diavolo's foul mood, to the point where he looks especially forbidding. I peek at him between my fingers.

He is scowling. This intimidating aura makes him look even more gorgeous.

Somehow, I manage not to say that out loud.

Kerish: Just say your first impression.

MC: Devastatingly beautiful. Absolutely breathtaking.

This time, did I speak it out loud? I can't even tell...

Magister Kerish takes another note.

Kerish: Let's keep going.

During the next few minutes, Magister Kerish goes through multiple outfits that highlight various aspects of Diavolo's personality. None of them are good for my mental state.

From time to time, Magister Kerish pauses to ask for my opinion. I can't offer any intelligent commentary, and I am reduced to incoherent expressions of admiration that I'd rather keep to myself. My mind's in a daze, and I've been rendered completely useless. Magister Kerish doesn't seem to mind.

Kerish: You're a perfect mirror. Everything shows on your face.

I don't want to hear that.

Diavolo isn't helping, either. Whether because he's still annoyed, or because he's getting bored from just standing there, but he's entertaining himself by buffeting me with random gusts of air from flapping his wings. I have to wave my arms to stop myself from toppling over, which prevents me from covering my eyes.

Which is a big problem, because I can't look away from him.

_flash._

Kerish: Lord Diavolo, it's unusual to see you so taken by the wings vs. tail debate. Normally, you're quite above such things, and you don't let them bother you.

_flash._

Diavolo: I am surprised myself. I was brought up as the only child, so I never truly had a chance to feel competitive until now.

He's feeling competitive with Decimus? I guess that's a step up from an obsession. They've only met once unofficially before, and their relationship is already evolving.

_flash._

My brain is turning into mush. My thoughts are disintegrating.

_flash._

I am spacing out completely. I feel like I'm going to lose my grip on reality.

I can't allow that to happen. Last time it happened, I —

_flash._

MC: Hold on!

Magister Kerish pauses between pressing the keys. The outfit Diavolo is wearing is a casual summer one.

Both of them are looking at me. Now what?

I scramble for an excuse for my interruption.

MC: D-do you mind if I take a picture?

MC: I promised Decimus to bring a recent one back.

That's true enough, isn't it? It's not like Decimus can use the slimed shot for a portrait reference.

MC: And I'd like to take a studio photo, for best resolution.

Diavolo: I don't mind.

Kerish: I have no objections either.

Kerish: I'll set up the cameras.

MC: No need.

I take out a talisman, and it incinerates in my hand. I promised myself never to use that particular talisman again. To think I would resort to it now...

A multiple-camera setup materializes in the studio, complete with several sources of lighting.

Kerish: !

The camera set is adjusting itself around Diavolo's circle, bringing him into focus, perfecting the lighting, the angle, the composition. I am waiting for the process to complete. There is no need for me to do anything, and the longer it takes, the better.

I need some time to collect myself.

Magister Kerish is studying my camera set with interest.

Kerish: This is a rather complex and detailed illusion formation, not to mention a highly portable one. You must be a photography enthusiast.

MC: I have no interest in photography.

Magister Kerish glances at Diavolo, who is facing the cameras impassively, then at the cameras, and finally back at me.

Magister Kerish raises his pale eyebrows. His question is clear in his gaze.

MC: It's the truth. I don't care for photography. It's a poor substitute for gazing upon the real thing with your own eyes.

MC: I did create this camera spell formation once, but it was just on a whim.

MC: I used it only for a day, and I didn't expect to use it ever again.

Kerish: Which of the grimoires have you used as a reference for this formation?

MC: _Phantasmagoria_.

Magister Kerish's eyebrows climb even higher.

Kerish: The process of creating a camera set isn't described anywhere in the book.

Kerish: And according to its cover and description, _Phantasmagoria_ teaches the art of mirrors and illusions, not photography.

An academic discussion is a very welcome distraction. I clutch onto it like it's a lifeline.

MC: To be precise, _Phantasmagoria_ teaches the art of light and darkness. This is the foundation of any illusion or mirror art. By using light and darkness, images can be created.

MC: Photography is merely one of the lesser applications of that art.

Magister Kerish smiles suddenly.

Kerish: Not many students of the school of illusion understand that.

It would be strange if I didn't understand that. After all, I have studied _Phantasmagoria_ from cover to cover, when I was trying to create the Mirror of Truth. The author of _Phantasmagoria_ never speaks of the art of light and darkness directly, but if you study the entire work, the overall theme becomes obvious.

In the end, understanding is not enough. On top of knowledge, you need to have both experience and power. When I realized that, I grew frustrated. I created the camera formation simply to prove to myself that I am not completely useless at spell crafting.

Well, if I'm honest with myself, that wasn't the only reason.

Metaphysical damage is a frightening thing. Even someone like me, who is used to death, fears metaphysical damage. If I die in one of the worlds, outside of the House of Lamentation, I have to pay the price.

The price itself varies. It could be one of my arms. If I lose my arm to metaphysical damage, I would never be able to use it again. Or it could be one of my Sins. I can choose to sacrifice one of my Sins instead of my limb. It would deplete the Sin almost completely.

I have sacrificed two of my Sins already.

Sacrificing Gluttony wasn't a big deal. I am no longer able to enjoy food, but I can still distinguish sweet from salty, especially when flavors are extreme, and inability to enjoy the taste doesn't stop me from eating when I need to sustain myself.

Sacrificing Sloth, however, had more noticeable consequences. I am no longer able to fall asleep without magical assistance, unless I really exhaust myself (which, I admit, happens frequently enough that it's not too big of an issue). And when I dream, my dreams are...not pleasant.

Solomon warned me not to sacrifice any of my Sins again. He said that when more than two Sins are depleted, the damage would become irreversible. He said that right now, it's still possible for me to restore what has been lost. He said that if I have to pay the price again, I should give up one of my arms. He promised he'd make me a new arm, and it would be almost as good as a real one.

After he made that promise, all thoughts of sacrificing my Sins again have disappeared from my mind. I want to have an arm made by Solomon. I can't wait to put it to use, and see what it can do. I mean, how amazing would that be? I wonder if his entire body is artificial, too?

Another thing metaphysical damage can take away is a memory.

One night, in a swamp in the vast frontier, I was killed by an unseen predator, and lost a memory related to Mammon. Fortunately, it was a memory witnessed by others, and I have found it and watched it eventually.

It wasn't that important. Just one of those scenes that happen every day. Losing it was not a big deal.

But it caused me to panic.

I started to think, what if it happens again? Which one of those memories I have of him would be lost to oblivion? What if I lose a significant memory of him next time? What if I forget about him completely one day? Would I even realize it happened?

Once I have something, I am unable to let go.

I didn't want to forget Mammon.

If I had a picture as proof, I could look at it and confirm that my memory associated with it isn't gone. If I had a picture as proof, I could reassure myself. If I had a picture as proof, I could relax.

Mammon wouldn't mind, right? He is a model, after all. He said it himself, he doesn't mind.

Then I made that portable photography set, just to do Mammon's skill as a model justice, and before I knew it, I had hundreds of pictures of Mammon in the span of one day, before I was finally satisfied.

Which would be all well and good, because my bout of compulsion and panic had long since passed. But the problem is, I have enjoyed my Mammon picture collection so much that I have developed an unhealthy habit of gazing at demons' pictures, and now it's a part of my relaxing routine.

Although a picture can't compare to the real thing. I'd much rather admire demons in person.

Decimus is about to learn the difference the hard way, himself.

_click._

I take a picture of Diavolo. The file is copied over to my D.D.D. I check to see how it turned out.

It's not bad. Diavolo isn't smiling in the picture, but it's for the best. This way, his smile would come as more of a shock in person to Decimus. There's no need to give Decimus an advance warning. Why should I be the only one to suffer?

The resolution is high enough that Decimus could use this picture as a reference for an entire tapestry, if he so desires. Even if he doesn't end up using it for a portrait, he could still keep the picture itself.

With a wave of my hand, I dismiss the camera set formation.

_ding._

At first, I don't realize where the sound is coming from. But then I see Diavolo take out his D.D.D. and check it.

Wait a minute. Why is Diavolo checking his D.D.D.? The sound is coming from **mine**.

I open the message I've received.

Leviathan has sent me a picture of himself.

In the picture, Levi is almost completely submerged in a bathtub full of water, and only his eyes, his horns, and a length of his tail are showing, a faint blush on his face glowing right underneath the water surface.

Did he finally give up on taking a perfect picture, and decided to simply cover up as much of himself as he could? I admit that he is still recognizable like this... And at least he is confident enough in his tail, if he chose to show it off...

MC: How cute.

MC: Ah —!

A powerful gust of wind pushes me back, and I wave my arms frantically for a moment, before losing my balance and falling backwards, right upon a large heap of soft fabric that Magister Kerish must have prepared for his work.

MC: Oof?

I try to get up, but my legs are too weak for some reason, and they won't respond to my commands. I simply look up at Diavolo.

Diavolo: You can't check your D.D.D. during a pre-arranged meeting.

Diavolo is holding his D.D.D. in his hand, glowering down at me.

Diavolo: It's **impolite**.


	94. Darkness Illumine

Diavolo doesn't even bother hiding the fact that he's checking the message I've just received.

Kerish: Lord Diavolo, why don't we take a short break?

Diavolo: I'm not tired. I can still keep going.

Kerish: Perhaps you can, but the human here looks in need of a break.

Diavolo: ...Very well.

Diavolo looks down at me.

Diavolo: Take as much time as you need resting up, because we'll be here until this task is done.

Diavolo changes back to his human form and steps out of the circle. The moment he crosses the chalk line, the circle goes dark, and Diavolo's outfit reverts to his uniform.

Diavolo: I'll be in the room next door if you need me.

He leaves the studio and closes the door behind him.

Magister Kerish turns to me and offers me his hand. I take it, and he pulls me to my feet with unnatural ease.

I wobble over to the coach, and collapse on it. My limbs feel like water.

MC: Old man, you really saved me there. You're a decent demon, and I don't abhor you.

Kerish: ...

Kerish: I don't need a compliment from a lower life-form.

Magister Kerish hands me a glass full of sparkling liquid. I drink half of it in one go, then study the sparkling glass.

MC: Illumine?

Kerish: ...Have you had it before?

MC: No, I've only seen a bottle of it in Decimus' cabinet. What kind of drink is it?

Kerish: Illumine is a concentrated, highly fermented Prime. Weaker demons have a low tolerance for it, and few demons would drink it outside of formal occasions, but personally I prefer it. It helps with focus and concentration.

Kerish: However, there is a little **side-effect.**

The fog clouding my mind recedes, and my mood darkens. My thoughts are still hazy, but I have a clear understanding of what just happened.

It can't believe the thing I wanted to avoid the most has come to pass. My pride is in shambles.

I glance at Magister Kerish. He's been here all the time. I wonder if this situation entertains him?

Kerish: Here.

Magister Kerish places my prize demon plushie next to me.

I must have dropped it at some point. I don't even remember when it happened.

MC: ...

No, I don't loathe Magister Kerish. He's helped me out. Whatever his motives, he's been kind to me.

I turn away from the demon plushie, and take another sip of Illumine. My mind clears further, while my mood darkens even more.

Actually, even if my pride is hurt, it doesn't matter. None of what happens here matters. Once I leave this reality, everything will be forgotten. There will be no consequences whatsoever. There will be no reckoning.

And that's not a bad thing.

Belphie isn't the only one who can get away with murder here. I can do whatever I want here too, and nobody will remember nor care. A glance or two doesn't matter. I can admire whoever I want. I'm pretty sure it has no metaphysical significance. No record remains in the annals of history if you just look.

Actually, even a kiss or two would make no difference. I bet I could even date whoever I wanted, then ditch them, and never look back. This is nothing that hasn't been done to me, after all.

Forget multiple realities — even within the same reality, nothing lasts. Haven't they kicked me out of the Devildom all the same after multiple declarations of love?

I have seen what will come to pass.

My thoughts are spiraling down.

"I love you." "You're special to me." "I will make you happy."

Empty words, sweet nothings, none of it matters. Words are easy and cost nothing. Words mean nothing when not backed by actions. Those who say they don't want to part with you, while doing nothing whatsoever to keep you by their side...there is a special place in hell for liars like that.

They will only reach out for something that's right in front of them. If it's even a little farther away, that's too inconvenient. If it's not right in front of them, it slips from their mind, and they won't even call. It's too much effort to strive for something that's out of immediate reach.

I thought demons, as a long-lived species, would be less shallow than humans, but I thought wrong. Both humans and demons are the same.

Their feelings don't run deep.

So, it's fine to forget everything that's happened. Even if it's only been a moment ago.

Let the past be the past, am I right?

Magister Kerish doesn't seem to notice my baleful expression.

Kerish: Do you have any comments about the outfits you've seen so far?

I take another big sip.

MC: Yeah.

Enough wallowing in my own misery. I'm here because I have work to do, and it's fortunate that I have a business at hand to distract me.

I am hopelessly lost, but it's still possible to help Decimus.

MC: About that fuming outfit...

Magister Kerish looks amused by the description.

Kerish: Fuming outfit?

MC: You know, the one that looks like it has fumes emanating from it.

MC: Remove it from the list of prototypes. We can't use it.

Kerish: Why not? Didn't you describe the effect as "devastatingly beautiful"?

My expression twists. Don't remind me!

MC: Yeah, but it's also intimidating. If Diavolo shows up like that, it'd be like a declaration of war. Our goal is not to start a fight with Decimus.

Kerish: Fair point.

I take another long sip.

MC: And, about that outfit with sleeves...

Magister Kerish chuckles.

Kerish: Outfit with sleeves?

MC: You know, the one that has sleeves.

Kerish: (dryly) Yes, so I've gathered from your description. What about that one?

MC: It's too concealing.

MC: You can't cover up more than 50% of Diavolo's body. He's not Lucifer.

Magister Kerish chokes visibly on that argument.

But I don't feel bad about the condition I've imposed. After all, Decimus has barely agreed to look at Diavolo, and even now, he's still hesitating. The least we can do is give Decimus something to look at.

Kerish: As odd as this condition is, it's not a difficult one to meet.

I finish the glass of Illumine, and place it on the coffee table.

MC: There is actually something more important I've been wanting to discuss with you.

MC: All of those outfits have the same design flaw.

Something flickers in Magister Kerish's eyes.

Kerish: Oh? Pray tell, what is that **flaw**?

But I do not reply. I am staring at Magister Kerish. My mind has finally cleared completely, and my vision has come into focus.

Magister Kerish is sitting on a chair opposite me, his posture formal and strict, his hands folded in front of him.

MC: Old man, what happened to your hand? You're hurt.

There is a visible redness on his right hand, like a burn. It definitely wasn't here before.

Kerish: This is nothing to worry about.

MC: Did the camera illusion I invoked cause this?

Magister Kerish scoffs.

Kerish: Of course not. An illusory light could never cause a burn. It's not strong enough.

Then, was it caused by natural light?

I glance around the studio. The curtains on the windows are lifted, and bright moonlight is streaming inside.

MC: Don't tell me your skin is so delicate that you actually got a **moonburn**...?

Magister Kerish does not reply. With a muffled curse, I push myself to my feet.

Kerish: You worry too much. It's only a little moonburn.

I am striding around the studio, drawing the curtains shut. The room is plunged into darkness.

MC: Why did you even use natural light if you knew this would happen?

Magister Kerish raises his hand, creating illusory fireflies to illuminate the studio with soft light.

Kerish: I can't allow my sensitivities interfere with my work.

Kerish: An outfit has to be tailored in the moonlight first.

I take out my D.D.D., summoning three little demons at once. I give each of them a handful of Grimm.

MC: Go buy a moonscreen. And a moon blocking hat. And those Nox gloves.

The little demons dash off, jumping out the windows.

Kerish: Meddlesome youngster, I do not wear gloves when I work. They annoy me.

Kerish: And Nox brand is particularly cumbersome.

I turn to glower at him.

MC: Reckless geezer, at your age, you should learn to take care of yourself. You're a designer and a stylist, so design protective gloves for yourself that don't feel annoying.

Kerish: ...

MC: In the meantime, you were careless enough to get a moonburn, and you can't let it get worse, so you'll wear Nox brand, and you will endure the cumbersomeness.

Kerish: ...I'm surprised you even paid attention to my little burn, considering you've just drunk Illumine.

MC: What do you mean? Illumine really helped clear my mind.

Kerish: Yes, but it has a side-effect.

That's right. He did mention something like that before. I was so dazed that I didn't pay attention to his words.

MC: What kind of side-effect?

Kerish: Illumine is only a shorthand name. The full name of that drink is **Darkness Illumine**.

Kerish: It brings to the surface and **illuminates your darkest thoughts**.

MC: ...

Kerish: Normally, demons who consume Illumine are too focused on their own darkness, and are either unable or unwilling to notice anything else around them.

Kerish: They don't care about someone else's pain. They're too consumed by their own. Certainly they're unable to carry a conversation, unless it's about their own suffering, and if they do notice others, it's only to lash out at them.

Kerish: Naturally, strong-willed demons are able to endure the side-effect and even harness it to their own advantage. But it takes a lot of practice, not to mention personal development, to consume Illumine like a mere refreshment, and go about your business as usual.

Kerish: I was curious how a human such as yourself would handle it. I wanted to see how you would act under its influence.

Kerish: Consider it a **little test of character**.

Kerish: Now, after experiencing that, can you still say that you don't abhor me, foolish human?

MC: ...Old man, you must have given me a highly diluted version.

MC: Those are not my darkest thoughts.

There is a knock on the door.

Diavolo's voice: Is everything all right there?

MC and Kerish: Yes, everything's fine!

We wait until Diavolo's footsteps are silent, then I turn to Magister Kerish again.

MC: Why would you want to test me, Magister?

MC: We're only briefly working together. Even if you don't like my character, just endure it for an hour or so.

MC: Even my liaison status is limited to 24 hours.

Kerish: It's always better to test someone in the beginning, before it's too late.

What a cryptic remark.

MC: In the beginning of what?

Magister Kerish smiles thinly. His eyes flash with a sinister light.

Kerish: A long-term, mutually beneficial relationship, of course.

I see. I guess the Grand Assembly wants me for something.

MC: ...

It's no good. I feel a familiar, irresistible urge to mess with a demon in front of me. I want to provoke him.

You wanted to test me, Magister. So don't complain if I test you too.

MC: I had no idea that you saw me that way, Magister. But since you're so determined to **know me better** , I won't say no.

Kerish: ...What?

Kerish: Erratic creature, what are you talking about now?

At this moment, the three little demons return with the items I requested.

MC: Old man, give me your hand.

Magister Kerish scowls, looking at the moonscreen I'm holding.

MC: Unless you dislike the idea of a lower life-form attending you?

With visible reluctance, Magister Kerish extends his hand. I start applying moonscreen to it, trying to be as gentle as I can. The Nox formula should reduce the irritation from the burn, too.

I study Magister Kerish from under my lashes. He doesn't seem to be in discomfort.

MC: Your skin is so delicate, you should take care not to get a burn from the starlight, too.

Kerish: This is quite an exaggeration. I'm not **that** sensitive to light.

I finish applying moonscreen to his right hand, and slide a Nox glove on top.

MC: Your other hand, Magister.

He complies without a protest this time.

MC: Since you're so curious about me, I don't mind revealing a bit of myself to you.

I will show you the most unpleasant aspects of my personality. Look forward to it.

MC: But I expect you to reveal yourself to me, in return.

Kerish: Your meaning is...?

MC: Old man, **let me see your true form**.

Kerish: You do **not** make such a request of a demon you've just met. It's inappropriate.

MC: But you just said that you wanted to have a **long-term** , mutually beneficial **relationship** with me.

MC: You wanted to reveal my **true character** , to know my darkest feeling and thoughts.

MC: I want to know you too. **It's only fair**.

At this point, Magister Kerish realizes the trap I've led him to. Perhaps because I'm only a human, he hasn't been careful with his words.

Kerish: My true form... isn't suitable to be shown here.

He lowers his voice, muttering under his breath.

Kerish: And a human won't be able to handle the sight of it, anyway.

MC: But I want to see your tail! Isn't there some way?

Kerish: I'm not going to **show my tail** to you!

Kerish: **How** did you manage to make it this far without losing your **human soul** is beyond me!

Kerish: Do you provoke every demon you come across like that?

MC: Not **every** one, no.

I finish applying the moonscreen, and slide the second Nox glove on Magister Kerish's left hand.

Abruptly, the door opens, revealing Diavolo.

Diavolo: I apologize for the interruption. I didn't mean to overhear.

Diavolo: But I can't help but notice that you've dimmed the lights, and now you're having a rather heated discussion about the **showing of tails**.

Diavolo's gaze moves to Magister Kerish's hand which I'm still holding.

Diavolo: I just wanted to ask you...

Diavolo: Do you still remember the purpose of this meeting?


	95. Demon Fashion in a Time of Peace

Diavolo refuses to leave the room again. Apparently, he is convinced that we're in need of a chaperone. I'm not sure whether he's trying to protect me from Magister Kerish, or to protect Magister Kerish from me, but he takes a seat in an armchair in the corner of the room, and picks up a fashion magazine.

Diavolo: Don't mind me. Just pretend that I'm not here.

Easier said than done. I can feel his presence even when I'm not looking at him, like the heat from the afternoon sun.

Kerish: About that **design flaw** that you've mentioned...

MC: Right...

MC: Magister, all those outfits are pure fabric.

MC: There is no **armor** at all.

There is a soft rustle as Diavolo turns a page in his magazine.

Magister Kerish raises his eyebrows.

Kerish: I was under the impression that I was preparing an outfit for a **peaceful** meeting.

MC: We're **hoping** for a peaceful meeting, that is true.

MC: There is at least 70% chance, however, that things will go south.

MC: Therefore, let's prepare for an all-out brawl.

Kerish: Coming to a peaceful meeting fully armored sends a wrong message.

Kerish: Not to mention, it's an admission of weakness. A leader cannot come across as weak.

MC: Can't you cover up all that armor with gemstones, or other decorations like that?

Kerish: It would still be obvious to anyone who knows where to look. And Decimus knows where to look.

Kerish: Besides, haven't you said that I can only cover up 50% of Lord Diavolo's body? There's not much material to work with, in the first place.

Diavolo: (rrustle)

MC: Don't worry, I won't insist on a full armor.

MC: I'll keep my requirements to a bare minimum. I want the outfit to have a neck guard, a heart shield, both arm guards, a chain belt, and a pulse protector.

During my inter-dimensional, cross-time travels, I come across the ancient Time of Chaos occasionally. I've never really taken part in the action, but I've spent some time in the camps, mostly sorting out the gear and taking care of the equipment.

The pieces I just listed are often used in an ambassador armor. That should be good enough, right? This is the sort of armor wartime ambassadors were wearing, all dressed up in a deliberately non-hostile manner, while facing the enemy army and expecting an arrow to the heart.

Magister Kerish lets out a pained sigh.

Kerish: Your aesthetics are too **traditional** and **outdated**.

MC: I don't want to hear that from... ancient geezer, how old are you, anyway?

Kerish: I am talking about your mentality, not age. You need to let go of the past and get on with the progress. If you don't, this multiverse will leave you behind.

Kerish: Progress cannot be stopped.

MC: Which one of the pieces I listed are outdated...?

Kerish: Most notably, the pulse protector. It's not used anymore.

MC: Wow, progress sure is a wonderful thing.

MC: I was not aware that demons **no longer had a pulse**.

Kerish: No need to be sarcastic, youngster. The pulse protectors are no longer in use because the pulsars are no longer in use.

The pulse, or more accurately, the Prime pulse, is a metaphysical channel that allows demons to access their personal power. It is even more important than a heart. After all, some demons have a spare heart or two. But everyone has only one pulse.

Cut off the pulse, and the demon will no longer have access to the source of that personal power. And that includes personal abilities, like camouflage, regeneration, or immunity to fire and ice. Pulsars are long-ranged weapons of targeted destruction that allow a wielder to cut off a demon's pulse.

Kerish: In the absence of pulsars, we have removed pulse protectors from the list of armor pieces currently in use. Wearing them only comes across as over-geared and fearful.

MC: How many pulsars are left now, and where are they located?

Magister Kerish studies me with an indescribable grimace on his face.

MC: Magister, don't look at me like that. What if Diavolo is ambushed on the way to the meeting? You know that the Abyss is lawless territory, and the Aspire domain doesn't even belong to the Devildom. The upcoming meeting is unprecedented, so we can't be too careful.

MC: Who's going to take responsibility if something happens to Diavolo on route?

MC: **Will you**?

Kerish: ...

Diavolo: (...rustle)

MC: I want to know where those pulsars are. If they're all safely guarded and accounted for, I won't be unreasonable and will not insist on a pulse protector.

With another long-suffering sigh, Magister Kerish raises his hand and produces a long scroll out of thin air.

MC: !

It's an extra-dimensional space!

I cannot help a covetous look. If I had a magical inventory like that, I could always carry all my equipment with me, and all my talismans. I would never be caught unprepared again, and I would never have to deal with multiple pockets.

I don't even want to know how much power that formation consumes. It's possible that even Solomon doesn't have something like that.

While I'm ogling the magical inventory, Magister Kerish offers the scroll to me, which I accept.

I break the seal, unfold the scroll, and skim it.

It's the entire catalogue of pulsar weapons, complete with their locations, and the regions responsible for keeping them.

MC: Old man, you have the catalogue! You obviously came prepared, so what's with all those dramatic sighs?

Kerish: I did not expect a human to be so meticulous as to ask for it.

MC: But you brought the scroll anyway?

Kerish: There was a non-zero probability that I was going to need it.

I look through the items on the list, one by one.

Most pulsars are listed to be in the care of the city of Dis (the capital of the Devildom), the outpost of Undar (de facto border outpost between the Devildom and the Celestial Realm), and the Fort of Bright Night (a historical site, the very first Devildom settlement that lasted long enough to build a defensive wall around it.)

I have no questions about those. I should hope that Dis, at least, is capable of taking care of their own weapons. If they aren't, we have a bigger problem than fashion differences.

Soon enough, I narrow down the entire list to only two entries.

MC: Old man, it says here that this pulsar was destroyed.

MC: Has anyone seen the wreckage?

Wordlessly, Magister Kerish extracts a stack of papers out of his magical inventory, and hands them to me.

I flip through them. They're photos of the wreckage site.

Well, the destruction sure looks thorough. Personally, I don't think this pulsar could ever be used again, but...

MC: Any chance that those fragments could be scavenged and reused to create a pulsar?

Kerish: No chance. It would be far easier to create a new pulsar from scratch.

MC: How long would it take to make a new one from scratch?

Kerish: It's not the question of time, but of resources.

Kerish: The Sources used within the cities no longer allocate resources for creating pulsars.

MC: If a new Source appeared, would you notice?

Kerish: Certainly. In such a significant event, the metaphysical landscape would instantly change.

Kerish: In fact, we would be able to read the approach of such an event far in advance, in the position of the stars.

MC: All right, I have no questions about the destroyed pulsar.

I hand the stack of photos back to Magister Kerish.

MC: That leaves just this one.

MC: It says here that this pulsar is in the care of **the Ghost City**.

The Ghost City is always drifting, and nobody ever knows where it is. Saying that something is in the care of the Ghost City is a fancy way of saying that you don't know where it is.

MC: So you **lost** that pulsar, huh.

Magister Kerish looks like he just ate something sour.

Kerish: Forward human, this is a very simplified way of putting it.

Kerish: The Ghost City has it now. We can't find that pulsar anymore, but nobody else can find it either.

MC: There is always a way to find what's been lost.

MC: Just because you don't have the ability, it doesn't mean nobody else does.

Kerish: Everyone with the ability is already within the sight of the Grand Assembly.

Not **everyone** , I am sure.

MC: Evasive geezer, I don't want to make things too difficult for you.

MC: I know the outfit you're going to make will be added to the annals of history, not to mention to the fashion magazines. You'll put your name on it. Of course you want to make sure everything is perfect, cutting-edge, and in line with the times.

MC: And of course, up-to-date with the **progress**.

Kerish: Troublesome human, you make me sound like a conformist.

MC: Magister, just give me the specs of this lost pulsar. Was it a Devastator or an Eradicator?

Kerish: ...It was a custom model.

Once again, Magister Kerish produces a thick roll of parchments out of his inventory. With another covetous look at his inventory, I unfold the parchments and skim through them.

I don't really understand all those complicated schematics, but I don't need to. I'm looking for the grade of the core.

Quickly enough, I find it.

MC: SSR grade?

That is enough to cut off the pulse of a mid-ranker. As for Diavolo, it's probably enough to stop his pulse for a few moments, but definitely not enough to cut it off for good.

MC: All right, we don't need to use a pulse protector.

Kerish: Thank the stars for that!

MC: Let's use a wrist watch instead.

A wrist watch is basically a lesser version of a pulse protector. Instead of completely reflecting the strike, it creates a shadow pulse. This way, even if Diavolo's pulse stops from the strike for a few moments, the shadow pulse would kick in, like a reserve channel, and he wouldn't be instantly deprived of his power.

Kerish: Obstinate child, a wrist watch is still very much noticeable.

MC: Just cover it up with gemstones.

Kerish: You can't cover up **everything** with gemstones. It'd be gaudy.

MC: Use sapphires, then. Someone once said that sapphires are never gaudy, no matter how many you add.

Kerish: It was the Architect who said that, the original designer of Dis, and he had passed away a while ago.

MC: !

MC: He already passed away?

Kerish: Where have you been for the last ten thousand years...? There's no need to look so surprised by the events of the distant past.

Kerish: Yes, he had "already" left this world. It's been a few millennia, in fact.

Kerish: Incidentally, the Architect was buried in a coffin made entirely out of sapphires.

MC: That must have made him very happy.

Magister Kerish snorts.

Kerish: Oh, there is no doubt about that.

I study Magister Kerish's expression. Is he annoyed by me acting obstinate? I can't tell at all. He is hard to read, and I have no idea whether he's sincere in his exasperation, or if it's simply a mask he wears.

Most demons develop multiple personality masks after the first ten thousand years. Magister Kerish must have quite a few.

Still, even if he's just acting, the least I can do is play along.

I've heard that it's easier to get your way if you're acting cute. Shall I give it a try right now?

I pick up the demon plushie and place it next to my face. I incline my head, as though listening.

MC: What's that? You also agree with me?

MC: Here, this little demon is saying that he's also in favor of a wrist watch.

MC: It's two against one. So how about it, Magister?

How was it? Was that cute, or was that disgusting?

Or both?

Kerish: ...

Diavolo: ...

Magister Kerish's mouth twists. I cannot tell whether he's on the verge of a laughter, or a frown.

Diavolo: Allow me to add my voice in. I'm also in favor of a wrist watch. I've always wanted to try wearing one.

Kerish: Oh, it sounds like it's three against one. A wrist watch it is, then. I'll just cover it up with sapphires.

That's it? He agreed just like that? That's all it took to get my way?

Should I have tried acting cute from the very beginning? Is it really that effective, or did Magister Kerish just agree out of pity?

Kerish: Before we discuss anything else, let's sign off on the armor.

Magister Kerish produces a shining scroll, which is filling with the details of our negotiations even as I watch.

Kerish: Please sign here.

Oh...this is a power signature.

It is meant to capture a personal power imprint, but it can also be used as a roundabout way to measure the amount of one's power.

I hesitate for a moment before bringing my hand to the scroll.

I touch the scroll.

There is a familiar prickling sensation.

MC: (No, not **now —**!)

A wave of heat is surging through my body, down my arm and towards my fingertips.

MC: Close your eyes!

There is a flare of bright light. Everything has gone white.

My vision returns slowly.

Upon the parchment, there is a glowing spiky seal.

MC: Old man, are you all right?

Kerish: Of course.

Magister Kerish is examining the seal with a thoughtful expression about him.

Kerish: It would appear that you have a vast amount of hidden personal power.

Kerish: Then, why are you acting like you have none?

Kerish: You're relying on talismans, lesser crafting and studying theory. You could get everything you wanted simply by tapping into your power. Why not use it?

MC: Because I can't.

MC: This power isn't mine. I am only borrowing it, and I have no control over it.

Besides, it's only useful for demonology. To be specific, it only works on the demon brothers.

Kerish: It's not yours? Who does it belong to, then?

Lilith, of course. Who else could it be?

Lilith's power has a high resonance with her own family. You could say it perfectly completes them, like a missing chain link in a circle.

An angel, even a dead one, is much stronger than a human. I am pretty sure that she is willing to lend her power to me as long as I'm using it for the sake of her brothers. Especially if it's for the sake of helping Belphie.

I have no idea what her criteria are, and how she decides what's helpful to her brothers and what's not. Her interference seems quite random, and she seems to be hijacking my own feeble Source channel when the demon brothers are involved.

I have no agreement with her, and if she tried to make a deal with me, I would have rejected it on the spot. Perhaps she knows it, because she doesn't speak to me. Or perhaps she doesn't have enough strength to speak.

If I could rip her power and her soul out of my body, I would've done it in an instant. I don't care how useful it is. I don't want it. I just want to be myself, even if it means to be a soulless, powerless vessel.

But there is a price for losing a soul within your body. And the way I am now, I cannot afford to pay that price. It is quite likely I would end up instantly, permanently dead.

I twist my mouth into something resembling a smile.

MC: That's a secret.

Kerish: ...

MC: All right, time for the final part.

MC: Let's discuss **the symbols**.

Magister Kerish takes an empty glass, apparently intending to pour himself some Illumine.

Kerish: You even want to detail the symbols?

MC: Of course. That's **the most important part**.

Kerish: I'm not sure you possess the depth of knowledge necessary...

Magister Kerish trails off. A doubtful expression appears on his face.

MC: Don't worry. I'll leave all arrangements to you. I just want to make a single change.

Kerish: I am already filled with apprehension...

MC: Old man, **I want to add the moon and the stars to Diavolo's outfit**.

The glass slips out of Magister Kerish's hand, falls to the floor, and shatters. There is a rustle as Diavolo discards the magazine he's holding, and half-rises from his armchair, an expression of shock on his face.

Diavolo: Did Decimus request that...?

I smile at him without saying anything.

Kerish: Human, you're a **menace**. I have gravely underestimated you.

Kerish: You're not a traditionalist. You're a dangerous reactionary!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random fact:
> 
> You might not be able to tell it from this fanfic, but my favorite character is Lucifer. My second favorite is Mammon, and my third favorite is Satan.


	96. Give Me the Moon and the Stars

I ignore Magister Kerish's outburst, and reply to Diavolo instead.

MC: No, Decimus did not request it.

MC: However, when he speaks of the lost symbols, it obviously makes him sad.

I place my hand on the talisman on my chest, feeling the prickle of its sharp points. Decimus gave it to me, the thing that made my existence more solid. But I haven't given him anything in return yet. This is my opportunity.

Decimus wants the moon and the stars, so I'm going to give them to him. Even if it's the only thing I do as a liaison with the Grand Assembly.

MC: Diavolo, if you show up for the meeting wearing an outfit with the symbols of the moon and the stars on it, I guarantee that Decimus **will open his door for you and let you in.**

MC: **You have my word**.

Diavolo turns to face Magister Kerish.

Diavolo: Let's do as the liaison suggested, Magister.

Diavolo: Let's restore the lost symbols and add them to my outfit.

Diavolo: **I insist.**

Magister Kerish looks between me and Diavolo.

Having Diavolo in the same room with us did not make Magister Kerish's position any stronger. Magister Kerish realizes it at the same time as I do.

Kerish: Lord Diavolo, if you would please wait outside while I am discussing this **extremely sensitive** matter with the liaison?

MC: Good idea. I'd rather discuss this matter one-on-one, too.

With visible reluctance, Diavolo nods.

Diavolo: You have fifteen minutes. I'll wait right outside.

Diavolo leaves the room, and Magister Kerish turns to me, glowering.

MC: Magister...

Kerish: **Absolutely not**.

Kerish: Do you know what it means for the Lord of the Devildom to wear the lost symbols?

Kerish: This is as good as a public declaration that the Devildom is reclaiming those symbols, and now they're going to be used everywhere in the Devildom!

MC: Yes, that's the idea.

MC: This is exactly what I'm trying to achieve.

Kerish: Preposterous creature, do you even grasp the full political implications of such a move?

Kerish: Do you even know the reason why the lost symbols became lost?

MC: Decimus described it as **the dance of pride**.

Magister Kerish grimaces.

MC: He said that both sides want their symbols back, but neither side is willing to make the first move.

Kerish: He was never one to mince words.

I take it that Decimus' description is accurate.

Kerish: If, after all this time, we were to take the first step, I don't even know what the Celestial Realm would say.

Kerish: They would definitely **gloat**.

MC: Who cares what the angels would say?

MC: I hear that in the Celestial Realm, there is no night, and the sun shines always. They don't have the moon and the stars, so why should they have a say in this **internal business** of the Devildom?

Kerish: The scales are always in balance, and taking the first step would tip them, not in our favor.

Kerish: It'd be **our loss**. The Celestial Realm would never let us forget this.

MC: It's better to remember than to forget.

MC: Do you remember? During the time of Chaos, there used to be a symbol on the gates of every outpost.

MC: A wavy line, thrice bent. I wonder what it means?

Magister Kerish replies, seemingly despite himself.

Kerish: ...That's the symbol of our galaxy.

Kerish: The bend points indicate the starting points in the formation of the stars. A curve in time and space.

Kerish: It means, "advancing despite the Chaos".

MC: That's inspirational. Don't you think so, too?

Magister Kerish is silent. There is a faraway expression on his face.

MC: What about that symbol that's always stamped on the dropped supply chests? The one that looks like a pie that someone took a bite out of?

Magister Kerish snorts.

Kerish: That's the waxing moon, the symbol of abundance. A pie indeed!

MC: That must be why seeing it always makes me feel like our fortunes would increase.

MC: I wonder if, with the disappearance of that symbol, the Devildom's fortunes decreased?

MC: Or do you think it's a mere superstition? Is there any **real power** in the symbols or not?

MC: What's your opinion, Magister?

No response. Magister Kerish's expression is like a closed window — dark, with vague lights flickering inside.

MC: And the multiple polygons with a circle inside, embroidered on the clothes of the scouts? The whole thing looks a bit like an eye.

Kerish: ..."May the stars watch over you always".

MC: Such a beautiful sentiment. Personally, I could use a blessing like that.

MC: Do you think that depriving the demons of such a blessing because of pride is a **wrong thing to do**?

Kerish: You keep speaking of those symbols in present time. That was long ago.

MC: To the Revenant, the past, the future, and the present are all the same.

MC: And to Decimus, it must've been like yesterday.

Magister Kerish shoots me a quick, piercing look.

Kerish: The two of you...are really alike.

MC: What about those concentric circles with a pentagram inside?

Kerish: That's the most popular symbol. It means, "the whole starry sky."

MC: It sounds like those symbols are many, and there are many meanings attached to them. Like the stars in the night sky, they're countless.

MC: Countless meanings lost.

Kerish: ...

MC: Old man, I understand you might have a grudge against the moon, because of your light sensitivity —

Kerish: That's not true at all!

MC: — **but don't you want the stars back**?

Magister Kerish covers his eyes with his hands.

Kerish: I am not listening to your temptations!

...If he doesn't want to listen to me, shouldn't he cover up his ears, not his eyes?

Not that I'm complaining. This leaves me free to go on.

MC: What about the dented circle, cleaved in half, that I always see on the banners?

Again, Magister Kerish can't help but reply.

Kerish: That would be the symbol of the moon, warped by the King's power.

Kerish: "All bow before the King."

MC: Abaddon's power is quite a sledgehammer, isn't it? And he is quite worthy of the title of the Demon King.

MC: Just look at what he's done at Aspire Ridge. Even though his actions were cruel to Decimus, the King stopped the Celestial side from claiming the Source of Aspire, and he achieved eternal peace, all in one move.

MC: In that single move, the King has created the permanent balance that we all now strive to preserve.

MC: Of course, it was at the price of Decimus' identity and happiness. But someone always has to pay the price for peace.

MC: I can't help but acknowledge that ruthless efficiency.

Kerish: ...

MC: However.

MC: Magister, don't you think that the one who paid the price for eternal peace and gave his life for the Devildom at least deserves to have the moon and the stars back?

MC: Isn't that only **fair**?

Slowly, Magister Kerish lowers his hands. His expression is twisted and wavering. There is no trace of the former composure on his face.

Kerish: The angels —

MC: I doubt the angels would even gloat. They'd be too ecstatic to have an excuse to have their sun back.

MC: But if you're worried about it, why not put a positive spin on it?

Kerish: ...Like what?

MC: The Devildom takes the first step because we're that **magnanimous**.

MC: Since angels fail to be magnanimous, this responsibility falls to us.

Kerish: Are you saying that we should **claim a moral high ground over angels**?

MC: Why not?

MC: No doubt they wouldn't feel pleased about being **outplayed on their own territory** , but that's **the price of the sun**.

Magister Kerish is staring at me, his eyes flickering. I can tell he is definitely tempted.

Kerish: Even if I were to agree to this outrageous proposal...

Kerish: This isn't a decision I can make on my own.

Kerish: The Grand Assembly would take a long time to consider this proposal.

Kerish: A **very long time**.

Kerish: And in the end, they will refuse.

MC: Why would the Grand Assembly have a say in the politics?

MC: Diavolo is the one who makes decisions here. Isn't that right?

Kerish: In theory, yes. In practice, however, the Grand Assembly has a tremendous sway over all matters in the lower Devildom.

Kerish: Nobody wants to achieve a split.

Kerish: Once the Grand Assembly is informed of this matter, they would put a stop to it.

MC: Who's going to tell them?

Kerish: I am.

Kerish: I am oath-bound to inform the Grand Assembly of all the major matters under my authority, to the best of my ability.

MC: To the best of your ability?

Kerish: ...Yes.

MC: But suppose you had **no ability**?

Kerish: ...What are you getting at?

MC: What if something happened to you, and you became **temporarily indisposed**?

Magister Kerish is staring at me in silence. It looks like he hasn't considered that option.

MC: Suppose you were **hospitalized** for 24 hours or so. Then, you wouldn't be able to inform the Grand Assembly of anything. And they wouldn't learn about this matter until after the meeting between Diavolo and Decimus is over.

MC: By that time, it'd be too late to change anything.

MC: Since the Grand Assembly moves so slowly, sometimes they fall behind the fast-paced events.

MC: What do you think about this, Magister?

Kerish: ...This is a very novel idea, but it has one **minor flaw**.

MC: What sort of flaw?

Kerish: In this world, there are very few powers capable of rendering me **indisposed**.

MC: But suppose you fell and broke a bone?

Magister Kerish snorts loudly.

Kerish: Naive human, I don't even have any bones.

Kerish: This form you see before you is merely a disguise.

Kerish: In truth, I am something else entirely. My true form is very nearly indestructible, and it has long transcended the stage where I could be harmed by normal means.

MC: Are you **absolutely sure** about this?

MC: Your extreme light sensitivity seems worrisome to me.

Kerish: Yes, I am **absolutely sure**.

Kerish: I am able to protect myself from light. I only removed my protection partially for a brief moment, just to see how you'd react to my little burn.

MC: Devious geezer, you even mastered the art of self-injury to achieve your ends.

MC: But I'm warning you, don't do it again.

MC: If you want attention from me, just say so, and I'll give you attention without you having to endanger yourself.

Kerish: ...What? Twisted human, you're giving me goosebumps.

Kerish: Don't you understand that it was a **test** —

MC: Anyway, now that we've established that you're **indestructible** , what do you say we put the symbols debate aside for now, and discuss something else instead?

Magister Kerish narrows his eyes. For a few long moments, he doesn't reply, scrutinizing me instead, as though he's trying to read my very soul.

Kerish: What are you plotting?

MC: Nothing, nothing.

MC: What material are you going to use for the arm guards?

Without looking away from me, Magister Kerish points at a shelf.

Kerish: Those Primers over there.

I walk over to the shelf he's pointed at. There I find two long, plated pieces of armor. With some effort, I pick one up.

MC: Hmm... I must say, it looks uncomfortable.

Kerish: I assure you, it's quite comfortable. The material is the best of the best.

MC: It's bulky. And it's heavy.

Kerish: Only for a human. A demon would find it very light.

MC: Prove it. Put it on and let me see.

I turn towards him, the arm guard in my hands.

Kerish: ...Fine.

Magister Kerish takes the arm guard from me and puts it on his arm.

Kerish: There, see?

MC: Let me lock it.

I step close to him and lock the arm guard carefully.

Then I take out a paper talisman, right before his eyes.

Kerish: This is...

I activate the talisman and plaster it to the arm guard.

The paper talisman incinerates. The spell activates, increasing the arm guard's weight by a hundred times.

Kerish: !

The sudden increase in weight pulls Magister Kerish to one side. He loses his balance.

For an instant, our eyes meet. In that brief moment, I think he can stop himself from falling, if he chooses to do so.

But he doesn't do anything, and the force of gravity pulls him to the floor.

THUMP.

MC: !

MC: Old man, are you all right?

I know he said he's indestructible, but I can't help but worry anyway.

Magister Kerish replies with a stream of expletives in a language too ancient for me to recognize.

Kerish: Get that thing off me, I can't move!

MC: Are you hurt?

Kerish: Forgetful human, I told you I can't be hurt that easily!

Kerish: What kind of incomprehensible human coddles archdemons that much?!

I breathe a sigh of relief.

At this moment, the door flings open.

Diavolo: What's going on?

Diavolo's eyes move from the prone Magister Kerish, pinned to the floor by the enchanted arm guard, to me.

At the sight of Diavolo standing here, a terrifying newspaper headline flashes through my mind.

_The Lord of the Devildom Got Into a Fistfight With the Member of the Grand Assembly over the Wings vs. Tail Debate. The Owner of Majolish Hospitalized With Heavy Injuries.  
_

MC: Don't come in!

MC: Everything is under control, but you can't be seen in this room right now.

If someone sees Diavolo next to the incapacitated Magister Kerish, I don't even know what **rumors** it's going to start. I don't want Diavolo's reputation to take a hit because he gets caught up in my scheming.

Magister Kerish adds some lively choice words.

Diavolo: Oh, well. In that case...

Diavolo takes a seat in an armchair directly opposite the open door, and makes himself comfortable, looking like he's expecting to see a good show.


	97. The Liaison's Authority

I ring the bell on the desk.

Nobody comes.

I am scowling. I **know** the staff are here. I can feel several eyes upon us. But this matter has become so high-profile that they don't want to get involved.

Then, I have no choice but to use **names**. Since my status has been elevated so much, if only temporarily, if I call a demon's name, my call would be impossible to ignore.

Let's see. Barbatos isn't here, so those two minions of his must be here in his stead.

MC: **Fluffy**.

There is a reluctant pause. Then a demon mid-ranker steps out of the shadows and approaches my door.

He has cat-like eyes and a fluffy tail.

Fluffy: I'm not feeling well. I'd like to take a day off, meow.

MC: I see. Need time for your hand to heal, huh?

Fluffy: !

Before he can react, I reach out and peel off his sleeve, revealing the bandage covering his hand.

MC: You're the one who hurt Mammon. Aren't you?

I look into his eyes.

Fluffy: ?!

Instinctively, Fluffy glances over at Diavolo.

Diavolo picks up a fashion magazine again and pretends to read it, avoiding Fluffy's gaze.

Fluffy: Lord Diavolo, meow?!

Diavolo ignores him.

MC: Why are you looking at Diavolo? He's not the one who scratched Mammon.

MC: It was a minion mid-ranker who has a cat-like demi-human shape.

MC: Both Mammon and Decimus agreed on that.

The mention of Decimus' name does nothing to improve Fluffy's complexion. He keeps glancing between Diavolo and me.

Finally, he realizes that Diavolo isn't going to come to his rescue.

MC: Was it you?

Fluffy: I — I'm feeling all better neow!

MC: Really?

I am smiling. At least, I think I am. I'm not sure how it looks like to Fluffy.

Fluffy: Yes! I can't wait to work for you. Please give me a task, meow!

MC: Are you sure? I don't want to force you if you're unwilling.

Fluffy: I'm willing, I'm willing! Don't smile at me like that!

Fluffy: I'll do whatever you want, so let's forget that little scratch, all right? It wasn't on purpose, meow!

Kerish: #@^$(&, #@$%!

I can't understand what Magister Kerish is saying. My translator charm can't handle it. The cadence sounds Old Sumerian, I think, and his tone is really mocking.

MC: **Slither**.

Another pause, and a demon high-ranker materializes in front of the door.

He has reptile eyes and a long, scaly tail.

Slither: I'd like to request an unpaid leave of absssence. For a thousand yearsss.

There is a 80% chance that Slither was involved in capturing Solomon's shadow clone and detaining him inside a pentagram. Slither specializes in abduction.

MC: Does Solomon know that you're here?

I reach for my D.D.D.

Slither: ?!

Slither: I don't need a leave of absssence! Please, put me to work!

MC: I dunno about that. You seemed really reluctant there.

Slither: I assssure you, I am eager to sssserve you, my Liege!

Slither: Just, please, don't mention my location to Sssolomon!

Kerish: @%$@* ^#%#* &&#$!

Magister Kerish's curses are tinged with impressed disbelief.

I clasp my hands together.

MC: All right, since both of you are so eager to work for me, I will entrust you with a **very important task**.

Slither and Fluffy glance at each other, resigned.

MC: Magister Kerish here wasn't careful as he worked. He fell and broke his collarbone.

Kerish: $##^#%!

MC: I can't understand what he's saying, since my translator doesn't cover ancient languages, but judging by the sounds he's making, he's got a broken arm, too.

Kerish: @%#****!!

MC: I think he's also twisted his ankle.

Kerish: @#$@ *** ***!

MC: His light sensitivity is acting up, too.

Kerish: ###, ###, ####!

MC: He needs urgent medical assistance.

MC: The two of you are going to **take him to the hospital**.

All of a sudden, Magister Kerish remembers how to speak modern Latin.

Kerish: I don't need to go to the hospital! There is nothing wrong with me!

Oh? He sounds like he **really** doesn't want to go. Don't tell me there's actually **something wrong** with him?

MC: Magister, when was the last time you had your annual medical check-up?

Abruptly, Magister Kerish falls silent.

Diavolo: I can answer that question.

Diavolo lowers his fashion magazine.

Diavolo: Magister Kerish has been abusing his authority as a member of the Grand Assembly in order to skip his annual medical check-ups for **several millennia** , now.

MC: Well, that simply won't do.

MC: There could be some **hidden health issue**. The situation's **truly urgent**.

MC: Get him to the hospital. Right now.

Kerish: I won't go. I **refuse** to go!

Slither: We can't take Magister there without his agreement.

Slither: We'll need proper authorisssation in order to override Magister's authority.

I take out the scroll I've received from the dodgy border control demon.

My scroll is glowing. It's turning into a condensed ball of dark light. It looks like a ball of yarn.

I toss it over to Fluffy, who unravels it quickly, and the yarn shoots out, wrapping around Magister Kerish, who is squirming frantically. My weight-increasing talisman is already running out of power, but it's too late for Magister Kerish to break free.

MC: Take Magister Kerish to the hospital and give him a full medical check-up for **all the millennia he's skipped**.

MC: Don't let him out until his check-up is done.

MC: Once he's in the hospital, report back to me. I want **constant updates** on his condition.

Slither and Fluffy bow simultaneously.

Kerish: I won't go, I won't go!

But the dark yarn is wrapping around him relentlessly, quickly turning him to a glowing cocoon.

Kerish: No, no, NOOOOOooo!

His voice grows muffled. Slither and Fluffy pick up the wriggling cocoon containing him. From the way they move, perfectly in sync with each other, it's clear they've got a lot of practice hauling bodies around.

Kerish's Cocoon: Mmmmmph —!

Slither and Fluffy turn, and they're gone.


	98. The Drifter

Now that Magister Kerish has been taken care of, I reach for the bell again. I need someone from Majolish to work on Diavolo's outfit.

Let's see if they would ignore my call for the second time.

But before I can even touch the bell, there is a knock on the door.

Diavolo: It's the stylist I've sent for.

Diavolo: Come in.

Stylist: Pardon me.

A demon wearing Majolish uniform enters the room.

Stylist: Greetings.

Stylist: I am M, an employee of Majolish. I am here to take over Magister Kerish's work.

Stylist: Magister Kerish has already given me all the details of the outfit's design. He gave me access to his work station and to all his supplies too. I can start working right away.

When did Magister Kerish do all of that? Don't tell me he sent the messages from the inside of his cocoon...?

Well, it's good to know that Magister Kerish is still being cooperative. For a moment there, it looked to me like he was really, uh, against the new development in our plan.

Both Diavolo and Magister Kerish approved of this new stylist, so he must be good at his work. I just want to confirm a few things...

MC: Have you ever made an entire outfit from scratch before?

Stylist: Of course. In particular, I've worked on the outfits featured on the cover of Devil Style's editions 11011 and 11013.

MC: You made Mammon's outfits?

Stylist: !

The stylist half-raises his hand, but catches himself in the middle of the motion.

MC: ...

Stylist: That's right! I see you're a human of culture and fine taste, if you're able to remember the editions numbers, just because my outfits were featured on the cover.

Stylist: I admit I wasn't the chief designer, but I did all the manual work, and even Magister Kerish himself praised my ability to follow his designs precisely, without changing anything —

Diavolo clears his throat.

Stylist: ...Pardon me, I can talk about myself — I mean, about my work — for hours.

MC: Regarding this outfit, you know what's required of you, right?

Stylist: I do.

Stylist: I am to create Lord Diavolo's outfit as detailed in Magister Kerish's design, according to the agreement made between Magister Kerish and the liaison.

Stylist: A festive armored ensemble, with...

For a moment, the stylist falters. He seems to struggle with his words.

Stylist: ...with the symbols of the moon and the stars on it.

MC: ...

He's having trouble even saying it out loud. How is he going to actually work on it?

If I'm leaving this project in his hands, I want to make sure he is properly motivated.

MC: Are you up for this task?

MC: Do you realize what you're getting into?

MC: I want to know how you **really** feel. Tell me the truth.

The stylist shoots Diavolo a glance, then looks back at me.

I bet that just Diavolo's presence here is encouraging this demon to be more forthcoming than he would've normally been. That's really helpful.

Now I see what Decimus meant when he said that demons on the battlefield found his mere presence reassuring.

Stylist: Well...

Stylist: I will admit I am apprehensive about drawing the ire of the Grand Assembly. However, I am being quite well compensated for this work, and with my employment options being as unreliable as they are...

He raises his hand, as though to push up his glasses.

Our eyes meet.

MC: ...

Stylist: ...

It's **him**. The dodgy border control demon.

He reads the recognition in my eyes, and slowly lowers his hand.

Heh. I know how to motivate him. Back then, he was really fascinated by the King's black card. He said he's being well compensated, but I bet it's still not enough, huh?

MC: You can put your glasses back on now, if it makes you more comfortable.

Without moving from the spot, the "stylist" takes a pair of glasses out of his pocket and slowly puts them on.

Diavolo is observing us in silence.

MC: Are you really an employee of Majolish?

Stylist: ...I was.

Stylist: I worked for them for two centuries. But then, a little accident happened, and due to no fault of my own, I've lost my place of employment.

A little accident...?

I feel a sudden, inexplicable surge of sympathy for this demon.

Stylist: I am no longer associated with Majolish, but I am familiar with their work. That's why Magister Kerish chose me.

So Magister Kerish chose him because he didn't want to implicate Majolish in this political matter.

I am frowning. This M demon is going to become a scapegoat. He might end up taking all the blame, as an outsider without any backing.

I know it looks like he concealed his name and appearance, and of course I intend to shoulder all responsibility, but still...

Something tugs at my memory, but I can't quite pinpoint what it is.

MC: How often do you change occupations?

Stylist: ...

Stylist: Ahaha. As a matter of fact, I change jobs quite often!

Stylist: I've never stayed at a single place of employment longer than two centuries.

That means his work at Majolish was his longest place of occupation. He must have acquired some skills. Mammon's outfits are a testament to that.

I reach into my pocket. The stylist's eyes are following my movements warily.

I take out the King's black card, and his eyes widen.

MC: All those symbols must require a lot of material. You must be short on funds.

Stylist: Um...

The stylist glances quickly at Diavolo, who is silently watching on.

Stylist: No. I have all the resources I need for my work. Magister Kerish gave me the keys to the main warehouse.

MC: Still, there must be expenses he's not foreseen.

MC: For example, this outfit has to be ready by tomorrow morning. You'll have to work overnight on it. You might need to buy yourself some coffee, to help you stay awake.

I want to make sure this stylist is 100% on board with us, and that he lacks for nothing. He'll need all the cash he can get to hide from the Grand Assembly and lie low for a couple of millennia after this project is done.

MC: Here, take it.

I hand the entire card to him. This is almost half of what the Demon King gave me initially. I did spend some of the King's money since giving the first half to Mammon, but my expenses didn't even make a dent.

The stylist takes the card carefully, and then just holds it in his hand stiffly.

MC: Use this money for working on Diavolo's outfit. Make sure this project is successful. If there's any Grimm left over after this project is done, you can spend it as you please. Coffee, camouflage, bribery, rent, food, or just something to help you relax — you name it, no restrictions.

The stylist is staring at me.

MC: Eat the card.

The stylist pushes the card into his mouth and swallows. I watch him as he takes out his D.D.D. and checks the amount.

Stylist: ?!

He checks the amount again. And again.

MC: I hope it'll be enough to protect him...

Abruptly, the stylist drops to one knee before me, grasps my hand, and plants a kiss on it.

MC: ?!

Stylist: Your Grace!

MC: ...

Diavolo: ...

It would appear that I've suddenly acquired a noble title. Who said that money can't buy respect? It's all about the **amount**.

Stylist: Your Highness!

Ye gods, don't call me that. The actual Highness is right behind you, and he can hear you.

Stylist: Living dead deity!

Okay, you can stop here. I don't want to hear what you'd call me next.

This demon is a bit of a sycophant, isn't he. I don't dislike the opportunistic type, because it's easy to work with.

MC: Are you feeling up for this task now?

The demon stylist is grasping my hand, staring up into my eyes devotedly.

Stylist: For the sake of the Devildom, this lowly me accepts this mission. I will strive my utmost to **spend every last Grimm** entrusted to me if it's the last thing I do as a demon!

Stylist: With my life on the line, I will make sure this project is a great success!

Diavolo: This is the level of enthusiasm you've never shown to **me**... **  
**

MC: I am glad to hear that you're so eager to work with us now.

MC: Although you **really** don't need to place your life on the line. In fact, **do your best not to**. Keep a low profile, you get me?

Stylist: Yes...!

MC: Now that we're working on the same project, I need your contact number. And you might as well give me your name.

I won't pretend that I'm not curious about it.

Stylist: Yes, my Liege.

The stylist releases my hand to click on his D.D.D., but makes no motion to rise to his feet. I take out my own D.D.D.

_ding._

I look at the name that appeared in my contacts.

MC: !

Stylist: I am Mephistopheles. But you can just call me Meph, my Liege.


	99. The Allotted Time

The meeting comes to a close. I want to leave right away, but Mephistopheles delays me by giving me a long, flowery, and impassioned speech about his undying loyalty to me, which I'm having great trouble extricating myself from.

Finally, with a little assistance from Diavolo, I manage to leave Mephistopheles behind in his studio, so that he can get started on his work. Diavolo and I make a hasty departure to the entrance hall.

I am clutching my prize demon plushie tightly, rattled.

It's him. I can't believe I'd find the one who used to be Swoop like that.

MC: Mephistopheles is so intense. Never would've thought that when I first met him. He was so business-like and low-key at first.

Diavolo: I'm surprised that you had so much trouble interrupting him.

MC: Can you blame me? I lost control of the conversation when he started reciting poetry.

Diavolo: Yes, Mephistopheles has been known to be overly sociable. I've heard Lucifer complain about it a few times.

Diavolo: However, this is the first time I've heard Mephistopheles recite his poetry in public. He doesn't often share the verses he composes. I think it might have even been an improvisation.

Diavolo: He must have gotten caught up in the moment.

Diavolo: For a moment there, I was concerned it might turn into a **serenade**.

I feel a chill.

Let's not say such dangerous things. I have absolutely no idea how to interrupt someone who's serenading, without hurting their feelings. And since it's such a novel and moving experience for me, I might not even want to interrupt it.

I don't think anyone is aware of it, but I am quite partial to music, and that includes vocals. A song addressed to me personally... I wouldn't even mind if the voice is off-key — it's exciting just to think of it.

Hey, I bet I could convince Mammon to sing for me. He would probably suffer in the process, but that just makes teasing him even more fun. It's a good stress-relief, you know what I mean?

MC: ...

Better not dwell on such things. The more I think about it, the more I want to hear Mammon serenade me. **Every night**.

Let's just...change the subject, before my thoughts get out of hand. Or I might end up actually subjecting Mammon to this torture.

MC: Do you think Mephistopheles will finish his task in time?

Diavolo: Oh, he will. No doubt.

Diavolo: He has become overexcited because you have overstimulated him financially —

MC: ...

Diavolo: — but despite his overdramatic attitude, he is, nonetheless, quite competent.

I get the feeling that Diavolo thinks this whole meeting was a bit over the top.

I, on the other hand, am very satisfied with how this meeting turned out. Majolish didn't end up wrecked. There was only one casualty, but he was delivered to the hospital right away.

Nothing's wrong with a little poetry to finish up a successful meeting. I like peaceful endeavors. In fact, if not for the subject matter of that poem...

My "glorious and unsurpassed eminence" (that's very nice to hear, but a bit too excessive to be believable), my "exceptional eye for true talent" (now he's just flattering himself), an "instant and deep spiritual connection" between myself and my soulmate (i.e. Mephistopheles), our "predestined, fated meeting" (this part really gave me the chills, considering), et cetera...

...If not for all of that, I would've liked to listen to Mephistopheles' recitation a bit more.

We approach the front door, the exit from Majolish. I reach out my hand to open it.

Diavolo: Tomorrow at midday, I'll give you the mirage flower.

MC: !

My hand freezes in the middle of the motion.

Diavolo: Meet me at the gates of Aspire to receive it.

MC: ?!

MC: (Why do I have to meet you again?!)

I stop before the door, and turn to face Diavolo. He stops too.

MC: I thought you were going to gift this flower to Decimus!

Diavolo: I've changed my mind.

Diavolo: Decimus is going to give it to you anyway, so we might as well skip the intermediary.

I have been rendered speechless by this line of reasoning. Why haven't we skipped the intermediary from the start, then?!

Diavolo: I'll give that flower to you personally just before the meeting starts.

I was hoping to avoid the meeting between Diavolo and Decimus entirely. There's no reason for me to be there when it happens.

Or should I say, there **wasn't**.

Diavolo: If you're not at the gates when I arrive, I'll assume you don't need that mirage flower anymore, and **you'll never see any mirage flowers ever again**.

He's really holding the flower hostage!

My speech returns to me.

MC: Y-you change your mind way too often!

Just recently, he tried to recall me, despite the agreement we had.

Wait, no. It was his original version who tried that. It wasn't this Reflection.

MC: Wait, forget I said anything —

Diavolo: Of course I change my mind.

Diavolo: I reevaluate my actions based on the consequences, and reflect upon them.

Diavolo: If I make any mistakes, I correct them.

Diavolo: No matter how long it takes.

MC: ...

He sounds pretty confident. No wonder. With Barbatos at his disposal, he can just discard any reality messed up by his mistakes. He can choose a different reality, the one where his actions led to the desired outcome. No matter how improbable that reality is. As long as probability isn't zero, Barbatos can use that.

As long as Barbatos remains by his side, Diavolo's actions will always be correct.

However...

I have looked at Barbatos' search results. Barbatos' power is not without its limits.

Despite the infinite potential realities, there are branches that lead to a dead-end. The more drastic are your mistakes, the less branches remain for you to choose from. Keep choosing realities with the lowest probabilities, and sooner or later you'll be left with only one road. A road you might not like.

And once the probability is reduced to zero, there is no more way in front.

There are corridors in between time and space that have no branches, and no doors. Sooner or later, Barbatos will find himself facing a dead-end. What will he do then?

As the master of time, he is capable of retracing his steps. He can turn back.

However...

Not everything can be reverted back to its starting point. There are actions that can alter the space-time fabric of the multiverse forever, irreversibly. Metaphysically significant actions.

Some mistakes cannot be undone.

The door you went through will disappear behind you. You'll be trapped in that dead-end room.

A room you can enter, but not exit. At least, **not alive**.

Like it happened to me.

I still wonder sometimes whether my original body is still left lying somewhere inside the attic room.

A similar thing actually happened to Barbatos already. He's had a bitter taste of his own limits. I've seen the things he's done to break out. It wasn't pretty. The resulting mess wasn't pleasant to look at, to say the least. There were probably more occasions I haven't seen.

And I'm pretty sure he hasn't informed Diavolo of any of that. He doesn't tell Diavolo about the details of his work. He probably doesn't want to worry him.

But once Barbatos is out, he is out, and he can fix anything. Even if he has to break down a reality or two, devastate the causality completely, until nothing makes sense anymore, demolish a wall or two — in the end, it's all worth it. Once he gets to the point where he wants to be, the corridor where the doors open again, he can get the branches rolling again, ever forward.

In fact, I have attempted to imitate Barbatos' demolition method, to no success. I wanted to open a new way, because I didn't like the way Barbatos had chosen for me. A repeated action can break down the wall, but I must not have chosen the right action. I remember the hug fiasco...

It wasn't strong enough, in the end.

For now, Barbatos has not been trapped yet. Not permanently.

But it's only the matter of time before Diavolo messes up badly, and the walls close around Barbatos completely. Or maybe he's already stepped inside the circular maze. You don't notice those things until it's too late.

Barbatos' power has its limits, and I just hope Diavolo isn't going to learn that the hard way.

Diavolo: ...Why are you looking at me like that?

For the first time since our meeting started, Diavolo looks unsettled.

MC: Like what?

I try to rearrange my face into a different expression. Although I have no idea what I'm doing.

Diavolo: Like you're worried about me.

All of a sudden, there is a knock on the front door.

MC and Diavolo: !

Both of us turn to look at the door.

MC: Are you expecting someone else?

Diavolo: No.

Diavolo steps past me, and pushes the door open.

No one is there.

Diavolo: ...

MC: Could it have been a customer?

Diavolo: No. I have reserved the entire Majolish for this...time period.

Diavolo glances at the clock on the wall.

Diavolo: Ah.

MC: ?

Diavolo smiles ruefully.

Diavolo: It would appear that the time allotted to me has come to an end.

Diavolo: Then, I will see you tomorrow at Aspire.

That sounds more like an order than a farewell.

MC: Right.

I step through the door, leaving Majolish behind me.

This time, someone is there, waiting for me on the other side.

It's the hooded high-ranker, the bodyguard Decimus has assigned to me.


	100. Moving in a Circle

The flying carriage is parked next to the front entrance of Majolish. Apparently, they were able to bring it here, now that the festival has ended.

The hooded demon opens the door for me, and I board the carriage. I don't give any directions, and instead sit there in silence, lost in my thoughts. After a few moments, the carriage takes off. Then it starts moving slowly around the shopping district, circling it.

I knock on the screen. The hooded demon lowers the screen and gives me an inquiring look.

MC: I told you not to follow me.

MC: How come you came to pick me up?

The hooded demon clasps his hands together, and bows.

That's interesting. I thought he was just the quiet type. But even a direct question isn't enough to make him speak up.

This demon is either unable or unwilling to speak. Possibly, there's an Oath of silence upon him. Or maybe his power is connected to his voice, and it's too dangerous for everyday use.

Still, it's odd that he's not using any known sign language. My charm translator would definitely be able to handle that.

The hooded demon presses his hand to his chest, and looks at me hopefully.

MC: ?

I mirror his gesture. My hand presses against my talisman, and I feel the familiar prickle of its sharp edges. The talisman Decimus gave me...

MC: "Decimus"?

The hooded demon nods. Then he swipes his palm across his neck, a universal gesture. Then he points at himself.

MC: ...

MC: Decimus threatened you?

He nods again, somehow looking very satisfied. Then he pantomimes checking his watch.

MC: "Time"?

_The allotted time._

Nod, nod.

MC: ...

MC: So, let me see if I got this right.

MC: Decimus gave you a very, uh, firm directive to come and pick me up from Majolish at a specific time?

Nod. The demon's slitted eyes glow red underneath his hood, curving in satisfaction.

It would appear that before letting me go on this meeting, Decimus negotiated the terms of it with Diavolo first, and instructed my bodyguard accordingly.

I lean back in my seat.

MC: All right, thanks.

The hooded demon flutters his hand in a wave, and looks at me inquiringly.

MC: I haven't decided where to go yet.

MC: Just keep moving in a circle, for now.

He bows, and lifts the screen back up.

Just like this carriage, my thoughts are spinning around in a circle. I can't seem to grasp onto any single one of them.

Finally, I manage to seize one of the more irrelevant thoughts. It's more of a distraction than anything else, but I welcome a distraction right now.

I have to say, it was very satisfying to use the King's card. I never realized how many large-scale problems could be solved just by throwing ludicrous sums of Grimm at them. The power of money opens the ways you might otherwise not have.

It's too bad I don't have that card anymore. I already got used to the power it granted me. It's easy to get used to good things.

I take out my D.D.D. and send a message to Mammon.

[MC: I want to be rich.]

Mammon's reply is instantaneous. He sends me a nodding sticker.

[Mammon: You've come to the right demon.]

[Mammon: I have a very lucrative business proposal for ya.]

...Shouldn't he be working on consecration with Decimus right now? How come he is free to message me back so fast?

[MC: I want to be as rich as the Demon King.]

Mammon sends me a sticker of the Devilcat rubbing his paws.

[Mammon: I knew the two of us were kindred spirits. Aim for the stars, am I right?]

[Mammon: I think we should start with asdjasdg]

[Mammon: lkdgjdfu]

[Mammon: sfjrgkjbgnkjdf]

MC: ?

_riiiing._

It's Decimus. I pick up.

[Decimus: Please don't distract Mammon. We're working on the Pool of Fortune right now, and he stopped right in the middle of the ritual to message on his D.D.D.]

[MC: Oh, you've finished the consecration already?]

[Decimus: Yes.]

[Decimus: Is your meeting over?]

[MC: Just ended. I'm in the carriage right now.]

[Decimus: I hope you had a good time, because if Diavolo failed to entertain you properly, there will be hell to pay.]

MC: ...

It's not tomorrow yet, and he's already looking for an excuse to start a fight with Diavolo.

I can tell he's pretty tense...

[MC: I had a lot of fun, actually.]

[Decimus: Good.]

[Decimus: But don't come back yet.]

[Decimus: Since we're constructing the Pool of Fortune, there are too many Prime splashes. It would feel unpleasant for a human to be in the area. The air is too saturated with Prime.]

[MC: All right. I still have things to do here, so I'll be occupied for a while.]

[MC: Let me know when it's safe to come back.]

[Decimus: Certainly.]

[MC: How is Mammon holding up?]

[Decimus: He is satisfactory. We've made a lot of progress. He seems to have become more motivated after your outing.]

The thoughts of the treasure map must be sustaining his spirit. Or maybe that single cup of instant noodles had such an effect. If so, that's quite impressive. Mammon is surprisingly easy to motivate.

[MC: By the way, are you still wearing my form?]

[Decimus: Yes.]

[Decimus: ...Why?]

[Decimus: Do you mind that?]

[MC: No, not at all.]

[MC: But you and Mammon are in alliance now. You'll have to show Mammon your true face sooner or later.]

[Decimus: And I will, eventually.]

[Decimus: But he works better when I look like you. He seems to be more receptive to my orders while I'm wearing your form.]

I have very mixed feelings about this statement.

[MC: Be gentle with Mammon, all right?]

Decimus gives a very ambiguous snort.

I hope they're going to be okay.

[MC: By the way, I was not aware that you talked to Diavolo to negotiate the duration of my meeting with him.]

[Decimus: ...]

[Decimus: How do you know that?]

[MC: The escort you assigned to me told me.]

[Decimus: He **told** you?]

[Decimus: That's...unusual for him.]

[Decimus: I did not expect the two of you to get along.]

[Decimus: Maybe I'll assign him to you on a permanent basis.]

[MC: Anyway, I took a studio photo of Diavolo wearing casual clothes.]

[MC: Want to see?]

[Decimus: I...suppose.]

[MC: I'll send it to you now.]

I hang up and send Decimus the studio photo of Diavolo I took earlier.

_ding._

[Decimus: This is a very good picture. I can use it for anything.]

[Decimus: I can make a portrait with it, or even a mural.]

[Decimus: I feel so much better about the upcoming meeting now.]

[Decimus: Thank you.]

_ding._

[Mammon: Good job, ya managed to distract him!]

[Mammon: He stopped right in the middle of the ritual to stare at his D.D.D.]

[Mammon: Anyway, I have many schemes on how to get rich quick, so let me know which one ya want us to try first.]

[MC: When I said that I wanted to get rich, it wasn't a request.]

[MC: It was a warning.]

[Mammon: A warnin'?]

[MC: Don't be surprised if something strange starts happening on the black market.]

[Mammon: Somethin' strange? Like what?]

[MC: I have no idea. But there's a good chance something will happen.]

[MC: I just wanted you to be the first one to know.]

[MC: Keep your eyes peeled.]

[Mammon: If ya gonna start somethin', I want in.]

[MC: You're already in.]

[MC: You're in a pact with me. It's not possible for you to get out.]

Mammon sends me a blushing sticker.

...What kind of response is that? Please show some dismay instead. This kind of positive reinforcement does nothing to curb my possessive tendencies.

_ding._

Oh? I have received a message from an unknown number.


	101. Magister Kerish's Agonizing Ordeal

[Unknown: This is Slither.]

[Unknown: We have delivered Magister Kerish to the central hospital, and the chief doctor is examining him now.]

[MC: Before I'll hear the rest of your report, reveal your contact number to me.]

There is no response.

I send Unknown a sticker of a sorcerer's wand.

[Unknown has revealed himself as Slither.]

I immediately add Slither to my contact list, and call his number.

After a noticeable pause, he picks up.

[Slither: Hello?]

[MC: Give me the details. What did the doctor say? Does Magister Kerish have any broken bones?]

[Slither: There are no broken bonesss. Magister hass no bones. Even his horns are made of something else.]

[MC: What about his light sensitivity?]

[Slither: Light ssensitivity is fashionable at Magister's age.]

[MC: So there's nothing wrong with him?]

[Slither: I wouldn't ssay so.]

[Slither: The doctors were ecsstatic to finally get their hands on Magister.]

[Slither: They want to give him a full medical check-up.]

[Slither: They have already prepared a health trial just for him.]

[MC: A health **trial**?]

[Slither: Magister will run an obstacle course.]

That doesn't sound too bad.

[Slither: While wearing a medical collar blocking mosst of his powers.]

Okay, that does make it a little more difficult.

[Slither: Under the full moon.]

Ouch.

[Slither: Carrying a backpack full of power sstones.]

Um...

[Slither: While dodging lightning-strikes.]

Hey, hey...

[Slither: And being chased by a pack of sspecially trained and equipped lower demons.]

Oh, come on.

[Slither: And this is only the first check-up out of the 666 they've prepared for him.]

[MC: Isn't that a bit **too rigorous**?]

[Slither: The intensity has been dialed up to match Magister's ssstatus and power.]

[Slither: And it isss unlikely that he would come to the hosspital ever again.]

[Slither: Sso the doctors want to fit all of his past and future medical trials into this sssingle check-up.]

Don't tell me the doctors are just taking revenge on Magister Kerish for flaunting their medical regulations?

Well, I'm sure it's for his own good.

In the background, I hear a distant howl.

[MC: ...Have they started already?]

[Slither: The drill nursses are putting the medical collar on Magister right now.]

[MC: So, that howl just now...]

The distant howl repeats again, louder this time. That voice sounds familiar.

[Slither: Yess, that is Magister.]

[Slither: He doesn't want to run the medical obsstacle course.]

I mean, can you blame him?

[MC: Stay there and make sure he cannot escape. His health is at stake there.]

[MC: Report to me if the situation changes.]

[Slither: Yess, my Liege.]

[Slither: About Ssolomon...]

[MC: If you do your task right, you'll have nothing to fear from Solomon.]

[MC: You have my word.]

[Slither: !]

My relationship with Solomon might not be too stable, but I am confident I can shield a single minion demon, if I play my cards right.

[Slither: Underssstood. I won't fail you, my Liege.]

[MC: By the way, give me Fluffy's number too.]

[Slither: ...]

[Slither: Fluffy sayss a lower demon ate his D.D.D.]

A likely story.

[MC: Let me speak to him for a moment. Put him on your D.D.D.]

[Slither: He went to the bathroom.]

MC: ...

Lords of Undar, lend me your patience.

I hang up without saying anything.

Whatever, Fluffy has always been evasive. I've even heard a rumor that he's capable of transforming into a cat. I've never witnessed him do it, however, so I'm not sure how true it is. Another rumor has it that he was a cat originally, before becoming a demon.

At this moment, there is a knock on the screen.

That's unusual. The hooded bodyguard wants to tell me something.

I reach out, and lower the screen.

MC: !


	102. The Shadow Wolf

The hooded demon is holding Nine by the scruff of his neck. Nine is dangling docilely. Our eyes meet, and he blinks.

MC: Nine!

The hooded demon is giving me an inquiring look.

MC: He's mine. Let him in.

The hooded demon reaches over the screen effortlessly and drops Nine in.

Nine slinks down to my feet, and nudges my knee with his head.

Nine: Oou.

I pat his head.

MC: By the way, how did Nine get on board?

We're still flying, and I'm pretty sure Nine doesn't have wings. The form he's in right now is the only one he has.

The hooded demon points down, at the buildings below, then gestures up abruptly.

MC: He jumped up from the roof? But it should be impossible to leap that high.

The hooded demon shakes his head, and points at himself.

MC: He was chasing us, and you carried him up?

The hooded demon shakes his head again, and points upwards this time.

I lean out of the window for a moment to look up. High above, I can see vague shadows moving.

MC: ...You had someone else carry him up?

Nod. The hooded demon seems to be smiling.

I suddenly realize that I have no idea how large of a guard detail Decimus has assigned to me. I didn't know we even had aerial support. This is starting to look like a small army.

Don't tell me they had Majolish surrounded while I was on a meeting inside, ready to siege it if I didn't come out on time...?

Haha, no way. I'm letting my imagination run wild.

MC: Thanks for picking him up.

MC: Nine belongs to me, Mammon, and Decimus, and we all value him a lot.

MC: Remember him, let him through anytime, and provide him support, okay?

The hooded demon bows.

I raise the screen again, and turn to Nine.

MC: Did you deliver the package?

Nine: Orumu!

MC: You weren't seen, were you?

Nine: Norru.

MC: Good job.

I pet him again.

I wonder if Satan has read my get-worse card yet?

I take out my D.D.D. and send a message to Asmo.

[MC: Hey, Asmo. How is Satan doing?]

[Asmodeus: Naturally, he's still hanging upside down from the ceiling in his room.]

[Asmodeus: We expect he'll remain in that position for the next ten thousand years, in fact.]

Well, that would make it difficult for him to receive packages, that's for sure.

[Asmodeus: It's all because he hasn't shown any regret for what he's done during the Council meeting.]

Really? That's...not good news.

Don't tell me he's planning to continue what he's started?

[Asmodeus: Why? Do you need Satan for something?]

[MC: I was just wondering if he's received any packages lately.]

[MC: Like the latest issue of _Lost Arts Monthly,_ for example?]

[MC: My subscription was terminated when the exchange program came to an end, but there were still articles I was looking forward to, and I know Satan is subscribed to it.]

[Asmodeus: Oh, my dear...]

Asmodeus sends me a sticker of a hug.

...Great. Now I've managed to make Asmo feel sorry for me.

[Asmodeus: I'm sure Satan would keep all the articles for you.]

[MC: How would he do that, while hanging upside down from the ceiling?]

[Asmodeus: Good point.]

[Asmodeus: Let me check the letterbox and see if he has any letters.]

All right!

[MC: Thanks, I would appreciate that.]

It's kinda hard to gauge the mood over there by using text messages only...

I call Asmo. He picks up.

[MC: So, about Satan...]

On the other side of the call, I hear footsteps. It sounds like Asmo is on his way to the entrance hall right now.

[Asmodeus: What about Satan, dear?]

[MC: Ever since returning from that Council meeting, has he shown any further interest in, you know... **politics**?]

To be precise, does he still want to **depose Diavolo**?

[Asmodeus: Oh, no, darling, not at all.]

[Asmodeus: He has, however, shown great interest in **checking his D.D.D.** ]

[Asmodeus: He's been very distracted by it ever since he's got that missed call.]

[Asmodeus: We're all quite sure that his interest in politics was brief and temporary, and only caused by his itching horn.]

[MC: But you said he's not expressed any regret over what happened?]

[Asmodeus: He's merely acting obstinate. Because Lucifer wants him to repent, he's refusing to.]

This situation is really not good...

There is a sound of a front door opening.

[Asmodeus: Oh!]

[Asmodeus: There really is a **package for Satan**.]

[Asmodeus: What's this?]

_rustle, rustle._

[Asmodeus: It's **Banesroot**! I thought it was out of season! We've searched all over the market for it. And it's such a big sack, too!]

[Asmodeus: And...]

_rustle._

[Asmodeus: It's a **get-worse card**. Addressed to **Satan**.]

[Asmodeus: ...]

[Asmodeus: **Let's see**.]

Don't tell me he's going to read it?

[MC: Um, Asmo...]

[Lucifer: Asmo, what are you doing?]

That's Lucifer's voice!

[Lucifer: Give it here.]

_rustle._

[Asmodeus: Lucifer, I was about to read it!]

Sure enough...!

[Lucifer: It's fortunate I've interrupted you in time. This card has a Curse on it.]

[Asmodeus: It's only a little get-worse Curse! I can remove it myself in no time.]

[Lucifer: This is Satan's **private correspondence**. It's not for you to read.]

[Asmodeus: But it's okay for **you** to read it?]

[Lucifer: I must inspect all Cursed letters, to make sure no harm comes to my family.]

[Asmodeus: You've already removed the Curse, you're just reading the card now!]

Lucifer is actually reading that card...

[Asmodeus: Lucifer! What does the card say? Lucifeeeer!]

[Lucifer: I will take care of delivering this package personally.]

[Asmodeus: Gah!]

I can hear footsteps, this time moving away.

[MC: Psst, Asmo. What's Lucifer doing?]

[Asmodeus: He took the package and he's gone to Satan's room!]

[MC: Maybe he's planning to give Satan the package?]

[Asmodeus: I doubt that. Satan has his arms tied up. But...]

[Asmodeus: Maybe he's going to read the card to Satan.]

[Asmodeus: I think I'll follow him and listen at the door.]

I hear quick footsteps now. Apparently Asmo is sprinting after Lucifer.

Before long, I can discern a faint murmur of voices. But I can't tell what they're speaking about.

[MC: What's happening?]

Asmo is whispering into the D.D.D. in response.

[Asmodeus: Lucifer is showing the card and the sack of Banesroot to Satan from a distance.]

[Asmodeus: Lucifer says, 'This arrived for you just now.']

[Asmodeus: Lucifer says, 'Do you want to read it?']

[Asmodeus: I can't hear what Satan says...]

[Asmodeus: Lucifer says, 'Do you regret your actions?']

[Asmodeus: Satan's voice is really low...]

[Asmodeus: Lucifer says, 'Give me your word that you will apologize to Diavolo properly.']

[Asmodeus: Oh!]

[MC: What is it?]

[Asmodeus: Lucifer is untying Satan! They've already come to an agreement.]

[Asmodeus: That was **fast**. Satan **repented instantly**.]

[Asmodeus: That's one powerful get-worse card right there. Just the sight of it was enough to make Satan **submit on the spot**.]

[Asmodeus: **I really want to know what it says.** ]

MC: ...

[Asmodeus: Woops, I better get away from the door!]

There is a sound of a door swinging open, and Lucifer's footsteps, growing fainter.

[Asmodeus: Whew, I think Lucifer didn't notice me.]

There is a long pause.

[MC: What is Satan doing right now?]

[Asmodeus: He's reading the card.]

The pause stretches on.

[MC: Is he still reading it...?]

[Asmodeus: I can't tell. His face is in shadow, and he is perfectly still.]

[Asmodeus: He's holding the card, however. He must be reading it.]

[MC: Why is it taking **so long**?]

[Asmodeus: I don't know. Maybe he keeps rereading it?]

[Asmodeus: He started moving all of a sudden! That startled me.]

[Asmodeus: Now he's looking through his bookshelves and selecting several books to carry with him. I can't see the titles from here...]

[Asmodeus: Oh no, he's coming this way!]

There is a sound of a door swinging open.

[Satan: Asmo?]

That's Satan's voice!

[Satan: What are you doing here?]

[Asmodeus: Just passing by. Don't mind me!]

[Satan: Who are you talking to on your D.D.D.?]

[Asmodeus: Tee-hee. It's a secret!]

[Satan: ...]

[Satan: You're in my way. **Step aside**.]

There is a little pause. Judging by the sounds, Satan is walking away now, and Asmo is following him at his heels.

[Asmodeus: Where are you going?]

[Satan: Kitchen.]

[Asmodeus: Oooh, are you going to cook dishes with all this Banesroot?]

[Satan: Obviously. I can't let such a precious, out-of-season produce go to waste.]

MC: !

[Satan: I'm going to lock the kitchen door from the inside. Tell everyone not to bother me.]

[Asmodeus: What if Beel tries to break down the kitchen door?]

[Satan: Do me a favor and tell him to **stay away** if he doesn't want to **get hurt**.]

[MC: Hey, Asmo. Ask Satan about the state of his mind.]

[MC: How is he feeling? What's he thinking about? Anything bothering him?]

[Satan: I need to close the door, Asmo. Stop blocking my way.]

[Asmodeus: Satan, do you care to give an interview to a concerned admirer of yours?]

For a moment, all sounds stop.

[Satan: Did you say...]

[Satan: ... **admirer**?]

[Asmodeus: You heard me.]

[Satan: ...]

[Satan: All right, I can answer a question or two.]

[Asmodeus: How are you feeling right now? What's on your mind? Anything bothering you?]

[Satan: I am relieved after being untied. Finally I can move my hands freely, and go wherever I want.]

[Satan: The itching horn is annoying me.]

[Satan: I'm thinking about the Banesroot recipes I've read before. I remember a few, but I need to look through these cookbooks to refresh my memory.]

[Satan: It bothers me greatly that I am unable to reply to the get-worse card I received.]

Such a thing is bothering him?

[Satan: I wish I could've sent a thank-you card back. It's only proper manners to do so.]

[Satan: If only Lucifer didn't tie me up! Couldn't he have chosen a different form of punishment?]

[Satan: I'm certain I could've caught the shadow wolf who delivered this package if I was free.]

The shadow wolf? I glance over at Nine.

I have to say, Nine really does resemble one. I wonder if Satan used magic to find out what the messenger looked like.

[Satan: **I missed my chance because of Lucifer**.]

[Asmodeus: And what do you think about politics? Any interest in that?]

[Satan: What politics? What are you talking about, Asmo?]

Satan sounds distracted. Don't tell me he's already forgotten everything that's just happened during the Council meeting?

[Asmodeus: The Council meeting just now...]

_flip, flip._

[Satan: I know I saw that recipe somewhere. Where is it?]

[Asmodeus: Satan, about that **Council meeting**. The one that resulted in you being punished.]

[Satan: What about it? I already told Lucifer that I'll apologize to Lord Diavolo. By the way, have you seen the cookbook with a red cover anywhere? I think the recipe I'm looking for was in that book.]

[Asmodeus: ...No, I don't think I have.]

[Satan: That's too bad. Let me know if you see it.]

There is a click of a closing door.

Asmodeus clears his throat.

[Asmodeus: Well, you've heard it, darling. Apparently, Satan has lost all interest in politics, and he only has interest in cooking dishes with Banesroot now. He's holed up in the kitchen to do it.]

[Asmodeus: Oh, and he has a bit of a grudge against Lucifer now, because he was unable to reply to the get-worse card he's recieved.]

[MC: Thanks, Asmo, you've been a big help.]

[Asmodeus: Anytime, my dear!]

I hang up.

MC: Hey, Nine.

Nine raises his head.

MC: You're going back to the House of Lamentation.

MC: Infiltrate the kitchen, bring a message to Satan, and wait for his response.

MC: But don't get caught by Lucifer in the process.

MC: Think you can manage it?

Nine: Orrrm!

I take out a piece of parchment and a quill.

Then I write a message:

"I am Nine, a shadow wolf of Greed. I am the one who delivered the get-worse card from before. Feed me, and I'll carry a message back.

"I've heard from a trusted source that you're troubled because you couldn't send a thank-you card in response, and I'd like to give you a second chance to do so.

"Your secret admirer..."

Oops. Not again.

I cross out the word "admirer" thoroughly and write "adversary" on top.

"Your secret adversary, my owner, wishes to tell you this:

"'While I was the one who composed that get-worse card, Banesroot was provided by someone else.'"

MC: Okay, here's the message. Take it.

Nine takes the piece of parchment carefully in his mouth. I open the carriage door, and he leaps out.

I watch as he lands effortlessly on the rooftop below, and melts into the shadows.


	103. An Excellent Idea

Now that I've written a note to Satan, I'm in the mood to write something else.

Why not write a note to Magister Kerish, too? He's in the hospital, and I have a bunch of those get-worse cards left over. That medical obstacle course sounds strenuous. I bet he could use some...incitement, heh.

I write several get-worse messages, wishing Magister that he burns to a crisp from being exposed to moonlight, that the specially trained lower demons catch up with him, and that the doctors don't discover the health issue he's hiding until they get to the very end of the 666 check-ups they've prepared for him.

I sign these cards as the liaison, since there's no point in trying to conceal my identity. Not a lot of people know about what happened at Majolish.

I summon two little demons, and give them the get-worse cards, with instructions to space out the deliveries with half an hour in between.

MC: Oh, and the flowers. Don't forget the flowers. What do you usually give demons for their **death anniversary**?

Bat-Like Demon: That depends on the number of years. For the first millennium since death, it's Festering Lilies.

MC: Great, make sure Magister Kerish receives them.

Insect-Like Demon: Festering Lilies with each delivery?

MC: No, let's keep things fresh.

MC: Add another hundred years to the death anniversary with each delivery, and arrange the flowers accordingly.

MC: This should create a sense of progression and keep him properly stimulated, right?

Bat-Like Demon: By stimulated, you mean provoked.

Insect-Like Demon: You're devious as always.

MC: Stop it, you two. You're making me blush with your flattery.

I dismiss the little demons, who burst out of the window and fly away at top speed, apparently competing with each other in a race.

Even though some time has passed since my meeting with Diavolo, it's still quite difficult to concentrate.

I should probably eat something.

If I were in the House of Lamentation, I would normally pop into the dining room while invisible and steal somebody's portion, which would inevitably get blamed on Beel.

But since we're outside right now, I suppose we could stop by one of those cafes.

Just as I'm thinking that, there's a knock on the screen.

MC: ?

I lower the screen, to find the hooded demon holding out a lunchbox with a familiar thermal-insulating coating.

MC: Oh...thanks.

I take the box and open it.

MC: That meddlesome auto-chef...

The box contains a collection of small portions of food, all ranging in taste from sweet to spicy, from hot to cold.

I've only been at Aspire for a few days, and the auto-chef has already noticed something. Is it trying to stimulate my taste buds?

Well, no matter. Let's just eat all of it. Food is food, and it's nice to have it conveniently prepared for me. No need to think too much about it.

MC: (This portion here tastes distinctly spicy. I wonder just how spicy it is, if even I noticed that.)

Before long, I finish eating the entire arrangement, and now there's only the dessert left. Let's eat it before it melts.

_riiing._

Oh, it's Slither! And it's a **video call**.

I pick up.

MC: Any news?

Slither: Magister Kerish wishes to ssspeak to you.

MC: Put him through.

Magister's face shows up, pale and sweaty, his eyes blazing feverishly.

I see no burns, so far. He's still wearing the gloves I put on him, and he even wears the hat I bought for him, although I have no idea when exactly he managed to pick it up.

Kerish: HUUUUUMAAAN!

In his arms, I see a bunch of Festering Lilies, half-crushed.

Oh? It looks like he's already received my get-worse card. Good to see that it managed to invigorate him.

MC: How do you like the flowers, Magister?

Kerish: Festering Lilies? **I am not dead yet**!

Kerish: Infuriating child, I certainly haven't been **dead for a thousand years**!

Kerish: **I am NEVER going to DIE!**

MC: That's good to hear. I hope that you maintain that vigor and stick around for the rest of eternity.

MC: But are you sure you have the leisure to video call? Your check-ups are still ongoing, aren't they?

Kerish: They gave me a five minute break, just so that I could "enjoy" my get-worse gift!

I eat a spoonful of the Snow Beary in a relaxed manner. Maybe it's just my imagination, but looking at someone who's having a hard time makes my dessert taste sweeter and cooler than before.

Kerish: Villainous human, you're enjoying the sight of my suffering, aren't you?

MC: You should give up that **fashionable** light sensitivity, Magister.

MC: Otherwise, I'm afraid you would really burn to a crisp.

Kerish: That condition is a part of my image —!

MC: You can still have the image without having the condition. Simply wear the hat and the gloves all the time.

MC: Just look at Lucifer. He's always covered up. You could take a leaf out of his book.

Magister Kerish lets out a howl of pure outrage at this suggestion.

MC: If you're not enjoying your medical check-up —

Kerish: Who would enjoy it?!

MC: You should confess to the doctors about that health issue you're hiding.

MC: I'm sure they could be convinced to cut the medical trial short, then.

Kerish: I have no hidden health issue! Nothing is wrong with me!

MC: Then why have you been avoiding the check-ups for this long?

Kerish: Because I don't like them!

I eat another spoonful of the Snow Beary in a deliberately villainous manner.

MC: Don't knock it until you've tried it.

MC: Who knows? After the first three hundred checkups, you might start enjoying them.

Kerish: I am not **that** masochistic!

Does that mean he has **some** masochistic streak?

MC: That aside...You said you wanted to speak with me?

Kerish: About the one who was assigned to work on the outfit in my stead...

MC: Mephistopheles?

Kerish: !

Kerish: He gave you his **name**?

MC: Naturally.

MC: And he is quite eager to work on this task with me.

Kerish: **Eager**...?

MC: Much more eager than **you** were.

Kerish: ...

Kerish: I wanted to give him additional instructions, but he turned off his D.D.D.

That was well done of Mephistopheles. No need for any further contact with the Grand Assembly until the meeting is over.

MC: I have already **secured his loyalty** , so even if you change your mind about cooperating with me, it's **too late to influence him**.

At least, that's what I want Magister Kerish to believe.

Kerish: **My project** is in the hands of an **amateur**...!

MC: After two hundred years of working at Majolish, he is quite competent.

Kerish: After two hundred years of **gathering rumors** , and **engaging in mischief** , you mean.

MC: Diavolo approved of him, so he'll do just fine.

MC: You should focus on your own health, Magister.

MC: And I think your five-minute break is already coming to an end.

Kerish: Mistrustful, devious creature —!

Mistrustful? Magister Kerish was the one who told me he's got an Oath upon him.

MC: Talk to you later, Magister. I hope you're looking forward to my next get-worse card.

Kerish: There's **more than one**?

MC: Much more.

MC: Slither!

The picture shifts, and Slither's face appears on the screen.

MC: Good job so far. Make sure you remain in control of Magister's communications, and don't let him contact the Grand Assembly.

Slither: Yesss, my Liege.

MC: And give me Fluffy's number.

Slither: Fluffy went to the canteen.

MC: I won't do anything to him. I'm not holding a grudge.

Slither: Fluffy says, I don't believe you.

I thought he went to the canteen?

Well, whatever.

I hang up.

Now that I've finished my lunchbox, I'm able to think properly again. Or should I say, I've started to emerge from a daze. My mind has partially restored its former function, after having been incapacitated by the Majolish meeting.

_Lock it in the treasury for now._

And I just had an **excellent idea**.

The mirage flower is in the castle's treasury, isn't it? And I bet Diavolo is too busy to keep an eye on it right now.

I **really** don't want to get caught up in his pace. Who knows what's going to happen next, if I just keep going along with his conditions?

It's not that I don't trust Diavolo. I believe he intends to return the flower at the meeting, just like he said from the start.

Rather, I don't trust myself.

So, it's time to go on the offensive.

I knock on the screen, and it lowers. The hooded demon gives me an inquiring look.

MC: Go to the Demon Lord's castle.

MC: Get as close as you can without getting noticed.

Hooded Demon: ???

MC: You don't need to give me such an alarmed look. I'm not planning anything outrageous.

MC: I'm just going to rob Diavolo's treasury.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MC: I can't believe it took me four chapters to recover from the Majolish meeting. I think my mind has been fried.
> 
> Author: Keep it together. We're going to get through this, you and I.


	104. Diavolo's Treasury: Soul Trap

I am moving through the corridors of the castle, holding a dowsing rod in front of me. This lucky rod can be used to track down high concentrations of treasure. Let's hope that Diavolo's treasury is paved with gold.

I am not too worried about guards, because Barbatos is away, and my phantom form has almost fully recharged. To save on power, I only used my invisibility briefly to get through the entrance hall. I'm no longer using it right now, but if the situation calls for it, I will become a phantom, and then good luck to the guards trying to catch someone who does not even exist.

To my surprise, however, I don't encounter anyone along the way.

There are quite a few turns to take. If not for this rod showing me the way, I might've wandered these halls forever.

How do you make a lucky rod, one might ask? Well, that's actually quite easy. I did it in one of the other realities. I just picked a normal forked twig, and then convinced Mammon to sleep with it under his pillow for a few nights. The rod has absorbed his dreams of riches and has become drawn to riches itself.

The lucky rod tugs me to the left. I push the door open —

— and step into a spacious room, paved with gold.

MC: !

Seriously? I got into the treasury, just like that?

Where are all the **defenses**?

I'm not talking about live guards, but at least a circle or two — not to mention, the door isn't even locked!

I have to say, Diavolo really is complacent. Does he think nobody will dare rob him? Surely, Mammon has tried at least a couple of times?

Diavolo lets his guard down way too much. This is actually starting to worry me.

I know Barbatos handles the defenses, but Barbatos won't be here all the time, as evidenced by the current situation. And he's not infallible. I suppose it's possible that Diavolo has never seen Barbatos at his worst...

I, on the other hand, have seen that quite a few times.

Well, never mind. This makes things easier for me. Let's just find the flower.

I look around me, and my gaze is immediately drawn to something.

MC: (Wow, look at that **gemstone collection**!)

I'm not even into gemstones — only power stones make my heart beat faster — but I am impressed.

Check out this **black onyx** the size of my fist. With an onyx this large, I bet Decimus could just replace any part of Mephistopheles' body that's suffered metaphysical damage.

Oh? When I look closely, this onyx is shimmering with dark light, like a shadow rainbow.

MC: It's beautiful.

Just gazing at it is mesmerizing.

MC: (I wish I could **touch** it.)

I sway on my feet, but stop myself from stepping closer.

MC: (Stop it. Once you touch something, you might never let go.)

I need to get a grip. I'm not here to steal gemstones. I'd like to keep my robbery as ethical as possible.

Yes, I know I'm breaking and entering (or at least trespassing, since I haven't encountered any locks yet), but Diavolo has already promised the mirage flower to me. I'll just be retrieving it a little **ahead of schedule**.

I don't need to add any further sins on top of that. What if it poorly reflects on **my guardian angel**?

I have no idea what a guardian angel's duties entail. I don't know whether angels are being evaluated based on the results of their performance or not. Is there a points system in place, with merits and demerits? Or do they just look at the general outcome?

But I do know that angels have a hierarchy, and also a career, and they can be both ambitious and strict. Serving as a guardian angel is just a task like any other.

This might well be the first serious task Luke has ever received. And Solomon has been pretty clear to me that I am a very challenging case. I'd like to make myself as unchallenging as possible. I am already cavorting with demons way too much, at least according to Luke.

And when I think about it, I can easily imagine Luke reporting to Michael on his progress, while Michael says "but why didn't you stop your human ward from committing sins X, Y, and Z?"

Ugh, just imagining that makes me want to never do the breaking and entering again!

Luke already has a pretty full schedule as it is. He's enrolled in three clubs and he's got his ceremony to prepare for, on top of that. He doesn't need any more trouble to deal with.

Sometimes I wonder who assigned him to me. If the link wasn't established by a higher power, there is no way he would've been able to find me in the first place.

Speaking of which, I wonder how Luke has been doing with his meditation? Maybe I'll ask Simeon.

I reach for my D.D.D. My fingers are moving sluggishly.

MC: (blink)

With an effort, I look away from the shimmering black onyx.

MC: (Ugh, my eyes feel strained for some reason.)

MC: (blink, blink)

I open my D.D.D., and as my blurry vision comes into focus, the first thing I see is the clock.

MC: ?!

The moment I see the time, I feel shivers down my spine, like large furry caterpillars crawling down my back.

An **hour**? I stood here, motionless, without realizing it, **for an hour**?

I thought it was just **a minute or two**.

Even with my propensity to space out and become dazed, this is **way too long**.

If I didn't get distracted by my D.D.D. just now, would I have stood here until someone came to check on the treasury, in about a hundred years or so?

Hastily, I turn my back on the innocuously sparkling gemstone collection.

Diavolo's treasury **isn't simple**.

No wonder I didn't see any locks or traps. Maybe he doesn't need any, because the contents of his treasury are dangerous enough that they **need no protection**.

Rather, you need to **protect others** from this treasury.

Let's just grab the flower and hightail it out of here.

I cover my eyes with my hand and creep through the treasury while peeking between my fingers. I try not to let my gaze linger on anything for too long.

What immediately draws my attention is a **gigantic mirror chained to the wall**.

And those chains still have **blood stains** on them, rusted over.

I can tell at a glance that this mirror is **bad news**.

Don't look at it. Keep moving.

I step past the mirror and leave it behind.

The moment I do so, I can hear music, coming from behind me.

Someone is playing piano inside that mirror.

Or should I say, **on the other side** of it.


	105. The Angel of Music and Narcissus

I stop dead in my tracks. But not because this music has any dark magic in it.

I stop because this pianist is **amazing**.

A simple sound becomes a melody, and the melody, a symphony. The pianist is making it up on the fly, trying out new patterns and discarding them, not worrying about dead-ends and mistakes, and the dark symphony is roiling on, ever forward, the threads of melody weaving together around me, through me, transfixing me in place, and this music has already become my cage.

The dark symphony surrounds me, holding me within its grasp.

I could listen to it forever. I don't ever want it to stop. I want to remain its prisoner forever.

Somewhere at the corner of my mind, I am aware that this sort of live performance cannot be achieved with mere technique. It contains raw emotion, too. The essence of the one who's playing is expressed through it.

This performance belongs to a true master. Someone who is dedicated to the pursuit of music completely.

I don't know anyone who can do it.

Even Lucifer, who can play piano himself, is not nearly as good. To him, it's merely a hobby, not a vocation.

I want to look back and see the pianist.

I have **no choice** but to do it. Otherwise, I'll regret not looking back for the rest of my life.

MC: (Maybe it's the angel of music!)

I have always been partial to music. Sometimes, it feels like a lifeline. Even when I do not fully exist, it connects directly to my soul, the only thread in the labyrinth beyond time and space that stops me from getting completely lost.

If there is an angel of music, I want to meet them.

MC: (Even if I get Cursed, I want to see the pianist's face.)

The dark symphony builds up to a crescendo.

I turn around, and face the chained mirror.

There is a discordant accord, both confused and triumphant, and the music cuts off.

It ended. I didn't want it to end.

No, it didn't end. It was just cut off.

This feels really...unfulfilling.

A shape is forming within the depths of the mirror. A familiar shape.

What the...?

 **Asmodeus**?

Asmo's form is slowly coming into focus. Even though it's still vague, just from the outline, I can recognize him.

What's more, it's the **original version** of him.

Apparently, this mirror is connected directly to my original world. Although it looks like it's taking a while to establish a visual link.

**Asmodeus is the angel of music?**

For one insane, confused moment, I seriously consider that that sublime performance actually belonged to Asmo.

Then I gather my scattered wits.

 **No way**. Simply to train the technique to that level, and then maintain it, you'd have to spend a significant amount of time on daily practice. The time Asmo would rather spend on **himself**.

During all the time I've spent in all realities in the House of Lamentation, I have never seen Asmo practice piano.

Not to mention...there is a certain **emotional depth** to that music.

I'm not saying that Asmo does not possess **depth** , per se. He's just more of a pop music kind of guy. And I doubt he would even touch an instrument — he'd prefer to sing.

All that aside, the biggest clue that Asmo isn't the pianist is how composed he looks right now. You can't create that sort of music while maintaining your composure. You can't expose your emotions like that, only to close them again mere seconds later.

Not completely, anyway. There will be traces left.

I'm still shaken, and I was only listening.

No, it wasn't Asmo who was playing piano just now. **Someone else** is in the mirror with him.

I sure hope that none of these thoughts are showing on my face, because at this moment, Asmo comes into focus completely.

And he has started a solo show of himself in front of the mirror. He's giggling and assuming various postures.

Asmodeus: What's this? I look beautiful today!

He's looking right at me.

Should I say something to acknowledge that I see him?

I...don't know what to say to him.

What if he wants to know why I'm not done with my task yet? I don't even know why, myself. I can't give him a time estimate, either.

Or should I leave the heavy topics aside and try a little small talk?

I can't remember when I last spoke to the original him. What did we use to talk about? Did we have any common ground?

I think he made a pact with me because of my hidden power. Or maybe Solomon instructed him to do it?

I don't really want to dwell on that. If Solomon wants to assign Asmo to me for some reason, then let him. That gives me yet another link to Solomon.

MC: ...

Actually, I probably shouldn't contact the original Asmo right now. The conditions were for me to go alone. I know Diavolo tried to break our agreement, but that was a unilateral decision. I am opposed to that, and I'm still sticking to our terms.

I can't risk giving him another excuse to break it. I can't speak to Asmo. I better leave right now.

Just as I decide to turn away from the mirror, Asmodeus speaks again.

Asmodeus: Of course, I look beautiful every day. But today is more special than usual.

Asmodeus is twirling a lock of his hair, his head tilted slightly.

Asmodeus: Somehow, I am looking **incredibly cute**.

He is staring right at me when he says that.

What's going on? Asmo, it's **me** , not **your reflection**. We don't even look remotely the same. Even if the image is blurry, you can't mistake me for a reflection of yourself.

Don't tell me the mirror is reflective on his end, and he can't see me? Maybe, unlike me, he can only see himself?

Asmodeus: I can see it clearly. This mirror brings out my **true charm**. I am looking more **attractive** than usual.

Asmodeus: Of course, I am always attracted to myself. But this time, there is something about my reflection that stirs my passion in the way it didn't before.

Asmodeus: Oh, what am I going to do? I'm falling in love with myself!

Asmodeus is wringing his hands dramatically, with an expression of theatrical despair on his face. As he does it, he gives me a wink.

Um, what's with that **wink**?

Could it be? Perhaps **he can see me** , and he's trying to compliment me in this indirect way?

Asmodeus presses his palms against the surface of the mirror.

Asmodeus: Even though I see you, my love, I cannot reach out through the glass and embrace you!

Asmodeus: This is **really frustrating**. What shall I do if my yearning is **never fulfilled**?

Asmodeus: Oh, woe is me!

Asmodeus' eyes glisten with unshed tears. They're belied, however, by his playful grin.

He's enjoying himself.

MC: (Pfft.)

Asmo, you should've become an actor. Although you need to work on your performance still. It's not quite believable.

Asmodeus giggles happily, his proclaimed woe forgotten.

Asmodeus: Oh? My smile looks more enchanting today, too.

Asmodeus: It's captivating.

I'm not smiling. This is just my typical shady smirk.

Asmodeus: It was a **good decision** to look into this mirror. I don't regret it at all.

Asmodeus: I could gaze at you for hours — !

Voice: That would be enough, Asmodeus.

MC: !

That's Barbatos' voice!

Asmodeus: Wait, Barbatos, I'm not done yet — !

A gloved hand appears in view and grasps Asmodeus' shoulder.

Barbatos: I didn't say you could look into this mirror.

Asmodeus: Just one more minute! No, half a minute —

 **YANK**.

With a squawk, Asmodeus disappears from the field of view.

And a moment later, Barbatos himself takes his place.

Our eyes meet.

Barbatos: Greetings.

MC: ...

I don't feel like running away anymore. Barbatos should be the one to run away.

Since it has come to this, and we ended up facing each other, I might as well find out what he wants.

MC: Hello.

Barbatos: May I have a minute of your time? I need to speak with you about something important.

MC: I'll give you a minute if you answer my question.

MC: Who was playing the piano just now?

Barbatos stares at me for a long moment. Then he raises his hand and fixes his tie which has become crooked by a millimeter.

Barbatos: I was.


	106. Barbatos' Request

MC: Was it **really** you?

Barbatos: Yes, it was I.

Barbatos: How many times are you going to ask me this ques—

MC: Why, WHY was it you? Why couldn't it have been someone ELSE, instead?

MC: **Anyone else**!

Barbatos: You don't have to sound so distraught about it.

MC: And why are you SO GOOD at playing piano?

Barbatos: ...Do I detect a note of accusation?

MC: How can you be the angel of music?!

Barbatos: ...I'm a **what**?

For a moment, Barbatos looks unsettled. But I can't even enjoy this rare sight, because I'm too agitated myself.

I really, really don't like this situation. This discovery is going to make it harder for me to hate Barbatos. And I **enjoy** hating him. I like to fantasize about wiping him out from existence. It helps me fall asleep at night.

Now, whenever I fantasize about making him disappear, there are bound to be errant thoughts like "but his music will disappear together with him, and that is **not a good thing**."

This is going to ruin my fantasies. And I'm already running out of methods of stress relief.

MC: Give me back **my torture fantasies about you**!

Barbatos clears his throat in a self-satisfied manner.

Barbatos: Why, I had no idea that you saw me this way.

MC: Ugh!

He's so full of himself. He even has the presence of mind to mock me.

Not to mention, how could he have **no idea**? I haven't exactly been trying to hide my deep loathing for him.

MC: (It's such an obvious **lie**.)

Barbatos: I don't believe I deserve the lofty title of **the angel of music**. This is quite an exaggeration. I do play piano in my spare time, but this is only a little hobby, nothing more.

Every word he says is precisely calculated to further piss me off.

MC: **A little hobby**?

Actually, I play piano myself. Or I used to, anyway. So I know a thing or two about it.

I give Barbatos a look blazing with pure hatred. He chuckles, completely unperturbed.

Barbatos: There's no need to give me such a heated look.

Barbatos: To tell the truth, I had not expected such an impassioned response to my performance.

Could you **not** look at this situation in such a positive light?

MC: How can you call your pursuit of music **a little hobby** with a straight face?

Barbatos: But it is. I only spend a small fraction of my time on music every day.

...I should've realized it. Barbatos has nothing but time. He has unlimited amounts of it. Of course he would have the time to practice.

How large is a fraction of eternity?

Now that the situation is making more sense to me, I have started to regain my composure.

MC: Why are you in front of this mirror, anyway?

Barbatos: I could ask you the same question.

Barbatos: I am in the castle's music room right now. There is an inter-dimensional link established between these two mirrors. And the mirror on your end is in **Lord Diavolo's treasury**.

MC: ...

Barbatos smiles meaningfully.

Barbatos: I did not expect anyone other than Lord Diavolo to come by that mirror.

Barbatos: Has Young Lord been giving you a tour of his treasury, perhaps?

I scoff at the idea.

MC: Come on, why would he do that?

MC: You know he doesn't expect me to stick around. And my time as an exchange student has come to an end, anyway. What would be the point of showing me around? It'd be a waste of time.

MC: Nobody has been giving me a tour of anything in the Devildom ever since I've arrived.

MC: Well, except Satan.

Barbatos: ...I seem to recall that you had a tour of the Demon Lord's Castle shortly after you arrived.

MC: I wasn't the only one there.

MC: Anyway, if the mirror on your end is in your music room, then why...

I lower my voice.

MC: Why is Asmo there with you?

Wait, am I overstepping my bounds with that question? Maybe Asmo was listening to Barbatos' performance?

...Does that mean that Barbatos was playing that piano piece for **him**?

For some reason that I can't quite put into words, I feel a dull ache at this idea.

Reflexively, I place my hand over Decimus' talisman on my chest.

Don't tell me I've started to feel possessive even towards **music pieces**. This is really getting out of control —!

Barbatos: Why, indeed. That's what I'd like to know, myself.

Barbatos' gaze shifts to his left. He's looking at something — or someone — outside of the mirror's frame.

Barbatos: Asmodeus has insisted on staying in this music room with me for some reason, and he refuses to leave.

Barbatos: It was bad enough when Mammon tried to seduce me —

Um, what?

Barbatos: — but now Asmodeus has started following me all around the castle, too.

Can we go back to the subject of **Mammon trying to seduce you**? I have so many questions about this. Why did Mammon do it, why was it **bad** , and more importantly, was Mammon **successful**?

Asmodeus' voice: I'm in this castle because this is the only place with mirrors!

MC: !

Asmo must be listening in on our conversation.

Barbatos gives him a warning glance, which apparently does nothing, because Asmo goes on.

Asmodeus' voice: The mirrors are now outlawed in the rest of the Devildom. But I can't last without a mirror! This is **pure torture**.

Barbatos: This is merely a temporary measure. You can endure it for a few hours.

That's right, the time between our worlds doesn't flow the same, except when we communicate directly. Apparently, it becomes synced then.

Asmodeus' voice: I cannot endure it even for a minute. I must admire my unsurpassed beauty!

Barbatos' gaze shifts back to me again.

Barbatos: All mirrors in the castle now have an inter-dimensional link assigned to them.

Barbatos: Asmodeus was not supposed to look into any of them. He took advantage of my distraction as I was doing my daily piano practice.

Barbatos: Fortunately, I noticed his odd behavior.

Barbatos: He's been getting a bit **too excited** by his own reflection.

MC: I see.

Barbatos: Have I answered all of your questions? Were my answers satisfactory?

MC: Almost. I just have one more question for you.

MC: How come **nobody talks about your sublime piano skills**?

MC: By all rights, you should be the talk of the entire Devildom.

MC: But I've never heard anyone speak of your skill in music. Not even once.

It happens again. For some reason, Barbatos looks discomfited.

MC: ?

Barbatos: That would be because **nobody in this reality has ever heard me play**.

 **What**?

MC: What do you mean, **nobody**?

MC: Wasn't Asmo in the same room with you just now?

MC: Not to mention, surely, Diavolo —

Barbatos: I've placed a Curse on this piano.

Barbatos: Nobody in this reality can hear or see me play.

Barbatos: They will only see the moving piano keys.

Wow, a cursed piano!

MC: Nobody in **this reality**?

Barbatos smiles.

Barbatos: That is correct.

Barbatos: It would appear that I have failed to take into account the audience located in **a different reality**.

Barbatos, failing to take something into account?

MC: Right...

So, that piano piece just now...I was the only entity to hear it.

It was **for my ears only**.

For some reason, I feel an overwhelming surge of relief at the news, and my mood lifts instantly.

...That greed of mine is really getting out of hand.

Barbatos: I have answered all of your questions.

Barbatos: Now then. About **my request**...

MC: Sure. I'll give you **a minute of my time**.

I reach into my pocket and pull out a large watch.

Barbatos: ...

D.D.D. timers cannot be fully relied on. After all, they're the product of the Devildom.

I am winding the watch manually. Then I set the alarm for one minute from now.

Barbatos: You can't be serious...

I press the button, and the watch tick-tocks.

MC: Your minute has begun.

Barbatos: ...

Barbatos: I have a message for you from my Lord.

Barbatos: Lord Diavolo recognizes the importance of the work you're doing there, and he will put your **other obligations** on hold.

MC: Does that mean he won't be trying to **bring me back** anymore?

Barbatos: For now.

Barbatos: Until further notice, you are free to come and go to the Demon Lord's Castle as you wish.

Barbatos: There will be no traps waiting for you, and you will not be detained.

Normally, I'd at least be suspicious of this convenient development, and demand an Oath or two, but...

MC: Uh-huh. The **importance of my work here** , huh?

Of course, Decimus' reincarnation project is bound to have widespread metaphysical influence. I don't doubt that. However...

MC: I bet I know what's **really** going on here.

It's about that time, anyway.

MC: Belphie is **throwing a tantrum** , isn't he?

A sour expression appears on Barbatos' face. His silence is enough of an answer.

Due to the whole mirage flower fiasco, I have not returned to my original world since, and I have already missed my regular appointment with Belphie.

He hasn't messaged me about it, because he knows why I'm staying away. He doesn't want me to walk into a trap either. However, it looks like he's made his displeasure known to his captors in other ways.

MC: I can't believe you're unable to keep him restrained.

The expression on Barbatos' face sours into a grimace.

Barbatos: We have taken care of his sleeper agents, but he has already taken root within the castle.

Barbatos: He's done some damage during his tantrum. Even Young Master is upset.

Diavolo is upset?

I don't manage to control my reaction to these news in time, and Barbatos immediately presses his advantage.

Barbatos: Is it Young Master's home, after all.

Barbatos: All he wants is to relax in a safe environment and focus on his work completely.

Barbatos: But he's had to deal with all those violent disruptions, and it's wearing his patience thin.

Right. Belphie is not Diavolo's responsibility.

And it was already kind of Diavolo to detain Belphie in the Demon Lord's Castle, as opposed to, say, the Royal Prison (an immense desolate iceland), or the Eternal Keep (a cesspool of necromantic experiments.)

The dungeons in the Demon Lord's Castle are comfortable, in comparison.

What is Lucifer doing, anway?

But for some reason, I am unable to speak Lucifer's name.

MC: (That happened before, with all the demon brothers. I couldn't speak to them. I couldn't think of them. I couldn't even look at them.)

MC: (What did Solomon call it?)

MC: (That's how magic protects its wielder from metaphysical destruction. A defensive mechanism that shuts off any existential threat.)

MC: (If I talk to them, would I really become a vessel for Lilith?)

No. I've managed to maintain my identity till now. There's no reason for that to change.

MC: Fine. I'll go and visit Belphie when I have the time. I'll calm him down.

Barbatos: Right now, if you please.

Barbatos: Visit him **right now**.

MC: I don't have the time right now. I'm busy robbing Diavolo's treasury.

Barbatos gives a dark laugh.

Barbatos: Please don't say that right in front of my face.

MC: Why not? You've already figured out what I'm doing here, haven't you?

MC: And it's not like this is the first time. I've already stolen that flower from Diavolo before.

Barbatos: Kindly don't make a habit out of it.

MC: Don't worry, I won't. This is the last time I'll be stealing that flower.

MC: Once I am done with my robbery here, I will come and visit Belphie right away.

Barbatos: I might have **a little something** for you to convince you to **expedite** your visit.

Oh? Is he planning to **bribe** me?

I fold my arms and tap my foot. In order to properly bribe someone, you first need to know what your target likes. I wonder if Barbatos knows my preferences? Or is he going to offer me something general, something that any average human would want?

Barbatos takes out his D.D.D.

_ding._

It sounds like he sent me something.

I take out my D.D.D. as well, and check the new message.

MC: !

It's a picture.

And it's a picture of Diavolo and Lucifer.

An extremely rare candid picture.

Diavolo is in the process of climbing out of the window of his office. He is glancing furtively left and right, completely failing to notice Lucifer who is standing right behind him, at the entrance to the office, holding a huge stack of papers.

The expression on Lucifer's face is priceless. He looks torn between pretending he hasn't seen anything, and calling out to Diavolo to announce his presence. I can tell he really doesn't want to get stuck with this huge stack of papers, all on his own.

MC: Pfft.

I don't even know how Barbatos managed to take this picture.

MC: What happened then?

Barbatos: I was forced to interfere, so as not to allow Young Master to shirk his duties.

Barbatos: Lucifer was extremely relieved, having been spared the necessity of making this choice. He left as soon as he finished unloading all the papers on Young Master's desk.

Barbatos: Young Master, on the other hand, was quite dejected, having already tasted the wind of freedom from the open window.

I save the image into my triple-locked folder, and pocket my D.D.D.

MC: All right. I'll go visit Belphie **right now**.

Barbatos: I am overjoyed to hear that.

Barbatos: Please do your best to **settle** him. No need to **hold back**.

The mirror in front of me ripples. The image within blurs and begins to change.

Wait a second. Something has just occurred to me.

Hasn't this conversation taken **much longer than one minute**?

Why didn't the alarm sound?

I quickly check the watch in my hand. The second hand on the watch is frozen at one second to twelve.

MC: **Barbatos**!

I can hear distant laughter in response.

The image in the mirror has become completely indistinct.

MC: Wait, I have one last question for you!

MC: What's the name of the piano piece that you played?

I know it's an improvisation, but he must have had some idea at the core of it.

There is a momentarily pause, and Barbatos' fading voice sounds from a distance.

Barbatos' voice: I don't have a name for it.

Barbatos' voice: It was nothing but my wandering thoughts.

The mirror shows an entrance to the dungeon, and I step forward, into the swirling warp.


	107. Because of Lord Diavolo

Belphegor: You're **finally** here.

Belphegor: They've just removed all the traps, so I knew you were going to come —

MC: I've heard that you've caused trouble here.

MC: What have you done to upset Diavolo?

Belphegor: ...

Belphegor: **That's** the first thing you say to me?

Belphegor: Not, "How have you been, Belphie?"

Belphegor: Not, "How are you feeling?"

Belphegor: You didn't even bring me anything this time!

Belphegor: We've been apart for **so long** , and the first thing you ask about is **Lord Diavolo**?

It didn't really feel that long to me. And it must've been only a few hours on Belphie's side. Although I know he spends a lot of time in the dreamscape, which distorts one's perception of time flow.

Belphegor: This is all **because of Lord Diavolo**. He ruins everything. He's taken **everything** away from me. And he's still not satisfied, even after stealing my awesome big brother. Before he met Diavolo, Lucifer used to be —

Belphie is working himself up into a frenzy. Normally, I would just let him rave. Better he rants at me than at Lucifer or Diavolo. I don't want them to have to listen to this.

But if I let him get into it, we'll be here for hours. And the more time passes, the more likely it is that someone would notice an intruder in Diavolo's treasury.

I want to quickly get back to my unfinished robbery.

Let's just lay all my cards on the table.

MC: Barbatos said that you've taken root within the castle.

MC: He said that you've **done damage** here.

Abruptly, Belphegor falls silent. He looks startled.

MC: If you still intend to go **on a rampage** , even while you're a prisoner, then there is **no point in me doing this fool's errand**.

Belphegor: !!

MC: A weak, helpless human shouldn't get involved when the elite demons are fighting. Even my status as an exchange student won't be an efficient deterrent where **you** are concerned.

Belphegor is watching my face warily.

MC: If peace is impossible, and even stalemate is no longer an option, then I will graciously step aside, and **let this reality be destroyed**.

Belphegor: Wait. It's a misunderstanding. Barbatos, he —

Belphegor gnashes his teeth as he speaks Barbatos' name.

Belphegor: — he has **embellished** the events greatly.

MC: Tell me everything that's happened. Don't leave any details out.

Belphegor: Okay, yes, I **admit** it — I've tried to **cause trouble**. But Barbatos took care of my sleeper agents right away.

Belphegor: However, an ancient castle like this is bound to have a few ghosts.

Belphegor: I enlisted some of those ghosts to play a few harmless pranks.

MC: What sort of **pranks**?

Belphegor: Nothing much. Just make some noise, move some objects around. You know, the ghost stuff.

Belphegor: But Barbatos, he —

Belphegor gnashes his teeth again.

Belphegor: — he caught all my ghosts immediately, and he sealed them inside a vase.

It sounds like Barbatos has had his hands full, just putting out fires in the castle. He can't leave the castle while this is happening, and he can't get anything done.

No wonder he resorted to removing the traps and asking me to come.

Belphegor: I've only managed to keep a single ghost, and it's doing nothing but spying now.

MC: What about the **damage**?

Belphegor is avoiding my eyes. He is silent.

MC: I will ask you again, and you better give me an answer now.

MC: **What have you done to upset Diavolo**?

Belphegor: (SIGH)

With visible reluctance, Belphegor begins to speak.

Belphegor: So, one of the ghosts was throwing objects around, and apparently, it picked up and tossed out of the window Lord Diavolo's favorite stuffed toy...

MC: ...

Belphegor: The toy fell into the lake, and got soaked.

Belphegor: Barbatos fished it out almost right away and dried it, but Lord Diavolo still won't calm down.

Belphegor: He is seething with rage.

It would appear that Barbatos has finally learned some consideration, since he's recovered the existing lost toy, instead of simply replacing it with a new, unsoaked version using his powers.

Or maybe Diavolo ordered him to do it. Maybe he got attached to his lost toy, and wanted to have it back.

Belphegor: In the end, nothing bad happened, and there was no lasting damage.

Belphegor: It's already been half an hour since, and everyone in the castle is still looking at me like I've murdered Lord Diavolo's **favorite pet**.

Belphegor: It was only a stuffed toy, and it's good as new now.

Belphegor: Shouldn't they all forget about it already?

Belphegor: Don't you think that Lord Diavolo is being unreasonable?

MC: No, I don't.

MC: Belphie, I know you've done your fair share of breaking things...

People...relationships...

MC: But you would even go after Diavolo's **stuffed toy**?

MC: Geez, just let him have his toy, won't you? Can't that demon have a little playtime?

MC: He's working hard as it is. He bears all responsibility for everything.

MC: And he's stuck in the same reality with **you**.

Belphegor: Hey, that hurts. Come on, that wasn't nice.

MC: What about you? You think you're being the nice one here?

MC: Destroying stuffed toys crosses a moral event horizon.

MC: Are you actually trying to become **evil**?

Belphegor: **Now** you think I'm evil? **That's** what it takes?

Belphegor: Anyway, I still haven't finished telling you what happened.

Belphegor: After the toy was recovered, Lord Diavolo came down here, to the dungeon, and he gave me a piece of his mind.

Belphegor: You wouldn't believe the stuff he said.

Belphegor: He said I was **fortunate** , and that I don't appreciate all the **wonderful things** I have.

Well, Diavolo isn't wrong.

Belphegor: **Unbelievable** , right? How could you say something like that to the one you're holding **prisoner in your dungeon**?

Belphegor: And he even had the nerve to say that he's jealous of my relationship with Lucifer —!

MC: ...

Belphegor laughs angrily.

Belphegor: Who in the Devildom doesn't know that the one closest to Lucifer is Lord Diavolo?

Belphegor: Maybe Lord Diavolo is secretly Avatar of Envy? How else could he manage to be **jealous** of something **he already has**?

MC: Hey. You know that Lucifer spoke on your behalf, right?

MC: We've made a deal with Diavolo. That's why your sentence has been put on hold.

Belphegor: The conditions of that deal are **impossible to fulfill**!

MC: ...

Upon seeing the expression on my face, Belphegor backtracks at once.

Belphegor: Wait — no, that's not what I mean. I know you're doing your best, and I appreciate —

MC: Save it.

MC: What else did Diavolo say?

Belphegor: ...

Belphegor: You should be asking me what he **did**!

MC: All right, what did he do, then?

Belphegor's eyes blaze with rage.

Belphegor: He took **my stuffed bunny** away!

MC: ...

MC: Snrrk.

Belphegor: This is no laughing matter!

MC: What kind of cute retaliation is that...?

Belphegor: So it's **evil** when I do it, but when Lord Diavolo does it, it's **cute**? You're biased!

MC: Well, he didn't toss your stuffed bunny into the lake.

Belphegor: But he captured my stuffed bunny, and now he's **holding it prisoner**!

Belphegor: I know it must be somewhere in his room.

Belphegor: No matter what, **I'm taking it back**.

Belphegor: I have dispatched the only ghost I have left to gather intel, and I'm awaiting it back any moment now —

The air stirs, and the temperature drops almost imperceptibly. I turn my head towards a ghost who floats into the dungeon, a camera in its hands.

Belphegor: There it is. Perfect timing.

Belphegor: Show me what you've got.

As the ghost floats past me, I reach out my hand and snatch the camera out of its grasp.

Ghost: !

Belphegor: !

MC: Let's see.

I open the gallery and swipe through the recently taken pictures.

Belphegor: Hey, that's my intel. I know you're my master and all, but at least ask for permission first.

MC: Hmm.

The most recent pictures show the interior of a room. I swipe further back in time.

MC: !

I stop abruptly at one of the pictures.

That's **a picture of Diavolo**.

And it's taken in this dungeon.

This must be from when he visited Belphie.

I examine the picture closely.

Diavolo is glowering at the camera. It's like a thundercloud is over his head. When he frowns like that, he looks quite intimidating.

And he's holding a stuffed plushie in his arms, hugging it to his chest protectively.

Wait. This stuffed plushie...

No way.

**That's the same one he got as the grand prize from the Slime festival.**

But how is that possible? The festival happened in another reality. The original Diavolo was here all along, wasn't he?

Is this plushie really **the same one**?

I take out my D.D.D. hurriedly, and open the picture of Diavolo from the festival I have saved.

I compare both pictures.

Sure enough, these two plushies look identical. And there is even an identical smudge of colorful slime on both of them, in the same place.

As I look between both pictures, something strange is happening.

The image of Diavolo, glowering at the cell, superimposes in my mind over the image of Diavolo, smiling happily.

I just realized something. When the main reality is selected again, only one will remain.

In order to get my original reality back, I'll have to give up on the other one.

One of these pictures will have to disappear. And **Diavolo's smile will be gone**.

I have a sudden, painful sensation of loss. Like I've been deprived of something **important**.

I have given up on everything else, but I don't want to give up on **that**.

That smile is **mine**. I won it. I've earned it.

**I don't want to let go of what's mine.**

I feel a familiar sensation, like stepping off a precipice.

And like the flip of a switch, all my thoughts turn narrow.

**This is all Bephegor's fault.**

I look up, and meet Belphegor's eyes.

He raises his hands and takes a step back.

Belphegor: **Calm down**. Don't do anything you'll regret.

I breathe out, and my breath comes out in a sapphire mist.

Belphegor: Whatever has upset you, **I can explain**. I'll answer all of your questions.

With numb fingers, I turn the camera around for him to see.

MC: **Why isn't Diavolo smiling?**

Belphegor stares at the picture for a long moment. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, apparently thinking better of it.

Belphegor: ...Come on, why would he be smiling? Be reasonable. He is talking to **me**. There is nothing for him to smile about.

Belphegor: He never smiles anymore when he looks at me.

MC: **He never smiles anymore?**

Belphegor: !!

MC: **So you admit it.**

MC: **You are to blame for this**.

My rage is radiating from me in dark sapphire waves. The floor of the dungeon is frosting over, while the stone walls are melting.

Belphegor backs away until he reaches the wall.

Belphegor: Wait —!

MC: **Belphegor, you destroyed Diavolo's smile.**

MC: **This is a crime against the Devildom, and I will personally execute you for it.**

I reach out my hand.

Belphegor raises his hands in a vain attempt to stop me. An invisible force grips him by the throat and lifts him up into the air.

He is struggling to speak.

Belphegor: Lucifer — won't thank you — for this —!

I laugh.

MC: **I don't mind being killed by Lucifer.**

MC: **It's not a bad way to go. I can gaze at him until the last moment. He is beautiful.  
**

Belphegor: Grrkh! **  
**

My power, the extension of my will, tightens its grip on Belphegor's throat. He can no longer speak. He can only struggle for breath.

MC: **How does it feel, Belphegor? How does it feel to be destroyed by your little sister's power?**

MC: **This is the day of the reckoning.**

Even if he wanted to, he cannot respond. His face is turning blue from the lack of oxygen. But I'm not in a hurry to break his neck.

MC: **You're going to die at Lilith's hands.**

MC: **But there will be no afterlife for the two of you. No touching reunion.**

MC: **I will send you off to oblivion, and watch this multiverse burn.**

Reality is cracking around me. At the back of my mind, I can hear the voice I've long forgotten.

_You are not allowed to have possessions. You may only borrow things.  
_

I frown. That voice is...irritating me...

_You are not allowed to get attached. When you get attached, bad things happen._

**Shut up. I do what I want.**

_You are not allowed to use violence. Those who use violence cannot live in society._

It's really grating on my nerves —!

_Follow three simple rules to keep your power under control..._

I **don't want** to hear that voice. Just to get away from it, I focus on Belphegor.

MC: **Any last words?**

Belphegor's lips are moving. He is trying to say something. Unconsciously, I read his lips through the shimmering sapphire haze.

Belphegor: (I took...)

Belphegor: (...video of...)

Belphegor: (... **Lucifer**.)

**Huh?**

I'm surprised enough that my hold on him loosens.

He takes advantage of my momentarily distraction to take one hand off the invisible noose around his throat and grope blindly for his D.D.D.

_ding._

Automatically, I look down at the message I've received.

It's from Belphegor, and it contains a video of Lucifer.

I click play.

Belphegor collapses on the floor, wheezing, gasping for breath. I must have released my hold on him, but I don't even care. All my attention is on my D.D.D.

The video starts playing.


	108. A Strange Conversation

On the screen of my D.D.D., I can see Lucifer, standing in front of Belphegor's cell.

[Lucifer: You said you wanted to see me, Belphie?]

[Lucifer: Do you need something?]

MC: (I see. So this was recorded when Lucifer was visiting Belphie.)

I examine Lucifer carefully. It's been a while since I saw him last.

Nothing seems to be wrong. Lucifer looks the same as usual.

But there is something off about his expression.

MC: ?

Lucifer's appears distant and distracted. One look at his face, and you can tell that most of his thoughts are elsewhere.

Oddly enough, Belphie doesn't seem to notice that. He is speaking animatedly. It's strange to see him so earnest.

[Belphegor: You have to convince Lord Diavolo to release me, Lucifer. Cancel the entire agreement between that human and him. No deals, no conditions. Just let me out.]

[Belphegor: He can't bring that human back by force. That will never work.]

[Belphegor: And that human can't be allowed to roam freely out there. It won't end well.]

[Belphegor: The dreamscape itself is highly hazardous, but there are also **other domains**.]

[Belphegor: The consequences are going to be...widespread.]

[Lucifer: Yes, I know.]

Lucifer's expression is calm and closed off. From this angle, I can see his eyes. Yes, he is distracted.

I highly doubt that he is even listening to Belphie.

[Belphegor: The longer this goes on, the worse the situation will get.]

[Belphegor: If this takes too long, Beel will break me out of here. You can't keep Beel contained.]

[Lucifer: You might be right.]

Lucifer's response is as impassive and neutral as before. He's obviously thinking of something else right now.

The question is, how come Belphie doesn't notice that? Perhaps I have the advantage of the close-up camera angle?

[Belphegor: In fact, I might be able to break out myself.]

[Belphegor: As soon as I restore my full strength, I'm going to try.]

Lucifer's expression doesn't change.

[Lucifer: Do your best.]

[Belphegor: ...]

I can tell Belphie is getting frustrated by these lackluster responses.

[Belphegor: Don't you realize that the situation is explosive right now? We're **on the precipice of war**.]

[Lucifer: Yes, I know.]

Hey. Doesn't it seem like there's a pattern to Lucifer's responses? Not to mention, his delivery is a little mechanical.

Apparently, Lucifer is so deep in thought that he can't even be bothered to offer replies with more variety. He just uses the same three responses.

Belphie notices that too. He's finally starting to suspect something. He's wondering if Lucifer has even been paying attention to his words.

And he immediately puts his suspicions to the test.

[Belphegor: Lord Diavolo is a spoiled royal. He has no regard for others, he's whimsical, and he's **annoying**.]

[Lucifer: Yes, I know.]

[Belphegor: ...]

MC: ...

Um. I know Lucifer is distracted, but isn't the degree of his distraction a little **extreme**?

[Belphegor: The exchange program is **the root of all evil**.]

[Lucifer: You might be right.]

[Belphegor: I'm going to **eradicate every last human from existence**.]

[Lucifer: Do your best.]

There is a long, speechless pause.

I say. Is this truly Lucifer, or did he send a shadow puppet in his stead?

I narrow my eyes, studying him closely.

No, that's him. Lucifer is here in person. He's just really, **really** deep in his thoughts.

Meanwhile, Belphie isn't done yet. In fact, he's just warming up.

[Belphegor: Lord Diavolo is going to marry a harem of three hundred.]

...No, he's not. The Selection has been cancelled, not to mention it was from another reality in the first place. Where did Belphie even hear about that?

[Lucifer: Yes, I know.]

[Belphegor: I think you should participate in the Selection too, and fight all three hundred of them for Lord Diavolo's hand.]

[Belphegor: It'll give you a leverage. Once you and Lord Diavolo are married to each other, it won't be so easy for him to refuse your requests.]

[Lucifer: You might be right.]

Belphie's eyes flash with a sinister light.

[Belphegor: Beel and I have decided to enter a polyamorous relationship with our human. Tonight will be our first night together.]

Hey, hey. Isn't Belphie getting **too much** into it?

[Lucifer: Do your best.]

[Belphegor: Gah, Lucifer! **You're not even listening to me!** ]

[Lucifer: Yes, I know.]

[Belphegor: **LUCIFER**!]

[Lucifer: !]

Belphie's bellow finally startles Lucifer out of his thoughts.

But Lucifer recovers in an instant.

[Lucifer: Look at the time.]

[Lucifer: I got carried away by our conversation. I have to go now.]

[Belphegor: Wait, Lucifer, **listen** to me —!]

[Lucifer: Let's finish this conversation another time.]

[Belphegor: **Finish**? We haven't even **started** yet!]

[Lucifer: I'll see you later, Belphie.]

Without another word, Lucifer turns and exits the dungeon.

His footsteps fade in the distance.

The video comes to an end, and stops playing.


	109. Making Amends

I look up from my D.D.D.

Belphie is curled up on the floor, watching me.

Our eyes meet, and he opens his mouth to speak. But he only ends up coughing.

It looks like there is some damage done to his throat.

I take out a paper talisman and reach out my hand. Belphie's eyes widen in alarm, but he makes no motion to dodge.

A flash of golden light engulfs Belphegor.

Belphegor: !

I examine him. He's still huddled on the floor, presenting a pitiful figure, but I know for a fact that there's nothing wrong with him anymore.

I used up my greater restorative on him. I only had three of those.

MC: (SIGH)

MC: What a mess.

MC: The castle is in turmoil, Lord Diavolo is upset, and you ended up hurt.

MC: Even though Barbatos went through the trouble of inviting me here, I couldn't do anything to control the situation, and only ended up making things worse.

MC: And the reason for all of that is **my agreement with you**.

Belphegor: !

MC: If only I never started visiting you here...

I should've never gotten involved in the first place. It's too late to break my agreement with Diavolo, but I can still break my agreement with Belphegor.

MC: **Perhaps I shouldn't come here anymore**.

Abandoning his pitiful act, Belphie jumps to his feet and lunges forward, gripping the bars of his cage.

Belphegor: You can't stop visiting me. You definitely can't!

Belphegor: If you stop coming here, I will show you **just how much worse things can get**.

MC: ...

Belphegor: If you feel bad about what happened, you should make amends to me.

MC: Make amends...

That sounds like a good idea. Yes, this might be the solution, after all.

MC: I'll give it a try.

Belphegor breathes a sigh of relief.

MC: But I'd like to apologize with **my actions, not my words**.

Belphegor: Then, I want —

MC: I haven't been paying enough **attention** to you.

MC: I Intend to correct that oversight, starting now.

Belphegor: ...That sounds good on the surface.

Belphegor: But why do I have an ominous feeling of imminent danger?

Belphie's sense of danger has always been good.

I wonder why Lucifer looked so distracted on the video? There must be a lot on his mind. I wish I knew exactly what he was thinking about...

Well, there's no point in wishing for something you can't have. And it'd be strange if there was nothing on Lucifer's mind right now, considering everything that has come to pass.

The important part is, Lucifer has enough on his plate without having to deal with Belphie's moods.

I can at least lighten his load where Belphie is concerned.

The problem with Belphie is that he is **too idle**. Being a prisoner with nothing to do, he's got too much free time on his hands. No wonder he's got the leisure for thoughts of revenge and bothering Diavolo and causing trouble in the castle.

I intend to keep Belphie so occupied that he has no time for **anything** else.

MC: It is my responsibility, as your master, to **whip you into shape**.

Belphegor: I have a bad feeling about this...

MC: I'm worried about your **education**.

Belphegor: ...What?

MC: You skipped so many lessons at RAD. You're way behind in your studies.

MC: So, while you're a prisoner here, you're going to start **doing your homework**.

Belphegor: ?!

At this moment, I can see a dawning comprehension in Belphie's eyes. My intentions have become clear to him.

Belphegor: **I forgive you**! There is no need to **make amends**!

Belphegor: Let's not mention what happened **ever again**!

Belphegor: I won't cause any more trouble. I don't even **want** to. You're here now, and that's **all I want**.

MC: Even if you forgive me, **I cannot forgive myself**.

MC: And while you might not wish to cause trouble now, you mood might easily change.

Once it changes, all those promises will mean nothing. I cannot trust Belphie's words.

MC: Not to mention, you really need to study. You're falling behind. Your future is at stake.

MC: I've looked at your past test results —

Although I should really call them **future** test results.

MC: — and although they're pretty good, you seem unable to apply your theoretical knowledge to practice.

MC: Take seductive speechcraft, for example.

Belphegor: !

MC: By all evidence, you should've **failed** that.

MC: When we first met, why on Earth did you tell me you were a **human**?

Belphegor: ...

MC: In that single move, you've lost all of that trust you'll never regain.

MC: If you passed that class, you should've known to tell me that you're a **demon**.

Belphegor: But —!

MC: No buts.

MC: Study hard, because **I will test you**.

MC: And it will be a **practical test**.

Belphegor: ...I suppose I could make a bit of an effort, then.

MC: That aside...

MC: I have instructions for you in case Lucifer visits you again.

MC: I'm going to give you a full and complete list of things you are allowed to say to Lucifer.

Belphegor: ...

MC: Take out your notebook and write those lines down, so that you don't "forget".

Belphegor: I prefer to take notes on my D.D.D.

MC: No, you might "accidentally" erase them.

With great reluctance, Belphie takes out his notebook and prepares to take notes.

MC: Ahem.

MC: "Lucifer, you look tired. Are you overworking yourself? Is there anything I can do to help you out?"

Belphie freezes with his pen over the page. But he doesn't raise his head and meet my eyes.

After a long pause, he begins to write the lines.

MC: "Lucifer, you look troubled. If there's something on your mind, I'm willing to lend a listening ear."

The expression on Belphie's face looks very strained.

I intended to stop at those two lines, but now I'm starting to warm up to this.

I might as well add a few more lines.

MC: "Lucifer, thank you for taking such good care of me. You are, and will always be, my awesome big brother."

I can hear the tearing sound as Belphie's pen punctures the page.

MC: "Lucifer, I'm sorry I've caused you this much trouble. Thank you so much for saving my life. I'll dedicate the rest of my days to making sure you don't regret it."

Belphie speaks through gritted teeth.

Belphegor: ...Just making sure. I don't **have** to say any of those lines, **right**?

MC: That's right. You don't have to.

Belphie breathes a loud sigh of relief.

MC: However, if you open your mouth and speak to Lucifer, **you must choose what you say from those lines**.

MC: You can't say anything else to him.

MC: In the **unlikely** event that Lucifer takes you up on your offer and shares his work with you, you are to do all the work exactly as he requests, to the very best of your ability, and without sabotaging anything. You are to meet his deadline, even if you have to forgo food and sleep.

Belphegor: That's...

MC: In the **extremely unlikely** event that Lucifer decides to share his troubles with you, you are to sit and listen to him silently and intently, paying attention to every word, and **you are not allowed to fall asleep**.

Belphegor: That's just cruel!

Belphegor: I had no idea that you were such a **sadistic master**!

MC: Now, about Diavolo...

My tone must have changed, because Belphie glances up at me in alarm.

MC: The next time I come here to visit you, I want to see a new, recent picture of Diavolo.

MC: **And he better be smiling in that picture**.

MC: **Or else**.

Belphegor: ?!

Belphegor: How am I supposed to accomplish that?!

MC: Do something to make him smile.

MC: You're a crafty demon with many tricks at your disposal. You definitely have the abilities. Put all of your abilities to work in order to accomplish your task.

MC: You don't need a human to teach you how to accomplish things. If you lack ideas, consult your textbooks.

MC: I don't care which methods you use. Do cartwheels, tell Diavolo a funny story, act cute for him, ask Barbatos to torture you in front of him, do whatever it takes.

MC: But **you are not allowed to ask him to smile**.

Belphegor: !

MC: That is the only thing you are forbidden to do. Don't ask him directly or indirectly. Don't be obvious about your intentions. Don't even give him a hint. Hide your goal for him, and no matter what, **don't let him find it out**.

MC: It must be a completely **natural** , **genuine** smile. It cannot be **asked** for, and it cannot be **forced**.

Belphegor: That's impossible!

MC: Is it?

MC: **Am I asking too much of you**?

Belphie's complaints freeze upon his lips. He backtracks instantly.

Belphegor: **Your wish is my command, master**.

More's the pity.

MC: Well, then...

Belphegor: But I have many complaints about your instructions.

MC: I'll hear them all out next time.

Belphegor: And I want you to bring me several things.

MC: Send me the full list later.

Belphegor: And I want to give Lord Diavolo a piece of my mind. I want to tell him exactly how I feel about him.

MC: If you do that, I'll give you a piece of my mind too, and I'll tell you exactly how I feel about you, leaving no detail out.

Belphegor: Never mind then.

MC: Now, if there's nothing else...

I glance at the mirror behind me.

Belphegor: You seem to be in a hurry to leave.

MC: I was in the process of robbing Diavolo's treasury. I want to get back to that as soon as possible.

Belphegor: Oh?

Belphie looks cheered up by this.

Belphegor: Make sure you **rob him blind** , and clean his treasury out.

Belphegor: If you need help with selling stolen goods, I'm sure Mammon would be more than happy to help you with that, for a small cut in the profits.

MC: ...By the way, why did you even record a video of Lucifer?

Belphegor: The spying ghost was around, and it ended up doing the recording. It's always recording everything and taking pictures wherever it goes.

Belphegor: When I realized there was a video, I decided to keep it. You know...as **blackmail material**.

Makes sense.

MC: Then, I'll see you next time.

Belphegor: I'll be waiting.

MC: Instead of waiting, work hard on your **homework** , and on the **task** I gave you.

Belphegor: Ugh!

I turn towards the mirror, and step into the shimmering warp.


	110. The Painting

Once back in the treasury, I immediately resume my search.

I don't think about what just happened. I can't afford to get pulled into those thoughts right now. I need to focus on finding the flower. Everything else can be dealt with later.

I really didn't expect my robbery to take that long. There are too many distracting things in Diavolo's treasury.

A shining rainbow light draws my eye.

That must be the mirage flower!

I turn and look at the rainbow light directly.

It's not the flower.

The light is coming from a large painting hanging on the wall.

The moment I see the painting, my footsteps come to a halt.

I stop and stare at the painting.

It shows a demon and a human child, facing each other, separated by the prison bars.

The demon is kneeling down, and he is wearing a hood. I know it's a demon in his true form, because of the hood's shape. No matter how much you hide them, the horns are always showing.

The demon is holding out a hand towards the child, offering a multicolored gemstone.

The gemstone is shining with all colors of rainbow. My gaze is drawn to it for a long moment.

I feel a pang of longing and loss.

MC: ...

It hurts to look at that gemstone, but all the same, I can't stop looking.

With an effort, I tear my gaze away.

I look at the human child, and an uneasy feeling creeps down my spine.

There is something **off** about this kid.

The child is wearing clothes that are rather expensive. A golden embroidery is woven through the black fabric, and the pattern of that embroidery gives me an uneasy feeling, like a spiderweb, like a tangle of chains.

These prison bars...are not here to contain the demon.

They're here to contain this human kid.

The child's face is blank. This kid stands in front of the demon, completely still, showing neither fear nor curiosity.

The only thing that interests this kid is the multicolored gemstone in the demon's hand. And, despite the blank expression on the child's face, I can tell that this kid definitely **wants this multicolored gemstone**.

_This was the first thing I've ever wanted._

MC: Ugh...

I raise my hand to my head. Something strange is happening. I can hear distant voices.

[Demon: It's a gift. You don't have to give me anything in return.]

My mind is a mess...

[Child: When do I have to return this gemstone? Do you want it back by sunset?]

Why am I hearing this? Is this a hallucination? Maybe this painting is Cursed?

[Demon: It's a gift. You don't have to give it back.]

No. If it was a Curse, my talismans would've alerted me.

Perhaps it's not an illusion. Perhaps...it's a memory.

[Child: I don't understand what a **gift** is. Do you want this gemstone back in a week?]

But whose memory is it? Why does it feel so...familiar?

[Demon: You don't have to give it back in a week.]

MC: ...

I have to admit it.

This memory is mine. Isn't it.

[Child: Then, do you want it back in a **year**?]

A year was the longest period of time I was allowed to borrow things for. I can't imagine having anything for longer than that.

[Demon: This gemstone is yours now. It belongs to you forever.]

[Child: What do you mean, **forever**? What do you mean, it's **mine**?]

The child speaking to the demon is me.

The child imprisoned behind the bars is me.

[Demon: It means nobody has the right to take it from you **by rule**. They can only take it from you **by force**.]

The child depicted in this painting is me.

[Demon: As long as you can keep your hold on it, you will **never** have to part with it again.]

Rules are important. But until that moment, I never realized there was a space — a space around me, belonging to me — where rules were powerless.

There was such a thing. A space where rules simply did not apply.

A space where I could do **whatever I wanted**.

**And once something or someone enters my space, all bets are off.**

How could I forget something like that?

There is a memory flash, clear as a picture.

...

Warden: **Give it here**.

I know I shouldn't unclench my fingers. However, it is a conditional reflex at this point. I've been trained to obey the commands of Warden for my whole life.

My grips loosens, just a fraction.

And the multicolored gemstone is wrenched out of my grasp.

I watch dumbly as the multicolored gemstone is flung to the stone pavement and **shatters into fragments**.

It shatters into droplets of rainbow, the fragile and beautiful thing, the precious and impermanent thing which has been entrusted to my hands, and dissolves into dust.

A gust of wind scatters the dust into nothing.

The multicolored gemstone is gone.

That which has been gifted to me is gone.

**That which used to be mine is gone.**

_As long as you can keep your hold on it, you will **never** have to part with it again._

**I should have never loosened my grip.**

Even as I struggle to grasp what just happened, Warden speaks.

Warden: You are connected to the dark fount. You were born this way.

I already know that. I've heard all of that a thousand times.

Warden: Those connected to the dark fount do not live to the age of five. Their powers are out of control. But you have survived this long, because you have no desires.

Warden: The darkest desires of humans feed into the dark fount and make its power go out of control.

Warden: The seal upon your heart prevents you from having desires. But you must not do anything to jeopardize its work.

Warden: There are rules you must follow, and you have broken the first rule.

Warden: What is the first rule?

I reply automatically. At this point, I can recite those rules even in my sleep.

MC: I am not allowed to have possessions.

MC: Whether it's things, people, or something else, I may only borrow them.

Warden: That is correct.

Warden: Should your power go out of control, you will unleash great harm upon yourself and others.

I do not respond. But Warden does not expect me to respond.

Warden: It might seem unfair right now, but you won't have to live under the seal forever. You won't have to follow the rules forever.

Warden: One day, you will find **your heart's desire**.

Warden: Your heart's desire is the key to unlocking your true power. Once you unlock your true power, you will gain mastery over the dark fount once and for all.

Warden: When you find **something you desire more than your soul itself** , the seal upon your heart will be broken.

But I have already found it. **This multicolored gemstone is what I want**.

Why do I only realize it now, when it's gone?

Warden: Now, your punishment will be decided. Follow me.

I do not move. I stand still, staring at the place where the gemstone had shattered.

If I look very hard, I can still see the lingering shimmering trace. A rainbow, shining in the air.

A hand is placed upon my shoulder, urging me to move.

Something has entered my space. The space where rules do not apply, and where only force matters.

Now, all bets are off.

MC: The second rule...

It's too late to save the multicolored gemstone. But I can still return the pain of my loss upon those who have caused it.

I can't keep this pain to myself, anyway. Whether it's things, people, or emotions, I must always return them.

This way, they will think twice before touching what's mine again.

Warden: ?

I can feel the fire within me, the familiar raging inferno, answering my call. I haven't felt it in a while, and it's never felt so **intense**.

This fire is burning through the chains underneath my skin, slowly rising to the surface, melting away the golden embroidery, gradually eating through all the restraints.

I feel like this time, **I can control it**.

The personnel here will be fast to react. But I might be able to deliver **one precision strike**.

MC: I am not allowed to use violence. Those who use violence cannot live in society.

A sapphire light is shining through my clenched fists.

Something is unfolding within me, ready to burst out.

It hurts, but I don't show it on my face. My expression is as blank as usual.

Change of plans. Rather than a single strike, I might be able to become a **manifestation** , and go on a **rampage** until they finally contain the damage I have wrought.

MC: Since I already broke the first rule, **I can break the second one, right**?

Warden: !

The hand is withdrawn from my shoulder in a hurry. But it's too late.

It doesn't matter if you stand next to me, or a hundred meters away from me any longer.

No one in this prison is safe.

I reach out my hand, and the inferno within me bursts out, turning me into a pure sapphire flame.


	111. The Seal

I come to my senses. I am in the treasury, kneeling on the floor in front of the painting.

The echoes of grief and rage are coursing through my veins, manifesting as a shimmering sapphire mist.

My power is out of control.

I raise my hand and look at it. Upon my skin, faint lines are glowing, entangling my arms like chains.

I can hear the voice I've long forgotten, chanting a Curse.

"Physical realm is tangible and transient. Metaphysical realm is intangible and eternal. At the intersection of both lies **human desire**."

"When you give in to your dark desires, you open the path to corruption."

"Through corruption, the path to the dark fount opens. The dark fount will bring forth destruction."

"With every step you take while pursuing your desire, you bring forth destruction."

My power is burning me from the inside!

I can hear that voice, but in addition to that, I can hear the voice of Solomon. Solomon is chanting the same Curse, only in reverse.

Both Curses are the exact opposites of each other. The two voices overlap in my memory.

"Therefore, in order to **remain uncorrupted** —"

"Therefore, in order to **remain yourself** —"

The conflicting chants are like tidal waves, clashing in my heart.

" **Have no desires**."

" **Do what you want**."

The chants collide, and cancel each other out.

I gain a moment of perfect stillness, where I am completely aware of what's going on.

I am in trouble. **I should've never looked at that painting**.

It doesn't matter if the painting is Cursed, if it's a real memory, or if it's just an illusion. I've heard of Cursed items that can force you to relive someone else's experience as your own.

The important part is, this painting is messing with my power, and wreaking metaphysical havoc inside my body. This can't be allowed to continue even a moment longer, or else my own power will consume me from the inside.

I have no strength to stand up, so I hastily start to crawl away.

The further I move away from the painting, the calmer I feel. The echo of fury in my veins is fading. My confused power is settling.

Encouraged by this development, I crawl even faster than before.

Finally, I am well outside of the range of the painting. I can't even see the rainbow light anymore.

My whole body is drenched in cold sweat, and I'm so weak I'm shaking.

I look at my hands.

There are no glowing lines. Nothing unusual. I might have imagined the whole thing. Or maybe it was all an illusion.

Lying on the floor and struggling to catch my breath, I take a few moments to reevaluate the situation.

Okay, I've decided. **I'm going to retreat**.

I might be a little reckless at times, but even I know when I'm in over my head.

I'm going to give up on this robbery, and escape.

Just making it out of Diavolo's treasury alive is already an achievement for a human like me.

All right, let's get off the floor and start moving towards the exit. Carefully.

My decision made, I pull myself together and raise my head.

MC: ?!

In front of me, I finally see what I've been looking for all along.

I found the mirage flower.


	112. The Devildom's Treasure

The mirage flower is in front of me, protected by a thick layer of enchanted glass.

It looks to be in a great condition. Far from withering, it is flourishing brighter than before.

I get to my feet and step towards the flower. My footsteps are muffled by the thick carpet.

The air shimmers in front of me, condensing into a shape.

Oh? At last, I have encountered a guardian.

Now, everything will be decided by what type of guardian it is.

Hopefully it's a demon. With a demon, I can definitely talk my way through.

The guardian is taking shape.

MC: (Shoot. No dice.)

It's a construct.

MC: (What a pain.)

Constructs are different from demons. They possess no true free will. By definition, they're unable to go against their creators. They're completely and utterly loyal, and never deviate from their main directive.

However, a competent servant needs to have a balanced blend of obedience and initiative. For this reason, constructs are often able to act on their own. They can make decisions, and they can think for themselves. They can even develop their own **opinions**.

Although they don't often express those.

The guardian focuses its gaze on me, and speaks.

Guardian: What is the Devildom's treasure?

Yikes, it wants a password. The worst case scenario. Not much leeway here, to be honest.

There is no way I can possibly guess it.

Still, I've come this far. It's hard to just give up. Not when my goal is right in front of me.

MC: Diavolo.

Guardian: **Incorrect**. You have two more tries remaining.

MC: Hold it. You asked me for my opinion, and I gave it to you. You can't just declare it incorrect. At least give me a chance to convince you that my words are true.

Guardian: ...

Guardian: I didn't ask you for your opinion. I want to hear the password.

Guardian: If your response is different from the password, it's incorrect.

That's interesting. This construct even bothered to explain the obvious to me.

That's bad news, actually. That can only mean that if I fail thrice in a row, there will be drastic consequences.

Guardian: What is the Devildom's treasure?

MC: Diavolo.

Guardian: ...

Guardian: **Incorrect**. I just said that it's **incorrect** a moment ago. Have you already forgotten?

MC: Hear me out. Diavolo is crucial to the Devildom. His very existence is precious. And his smile is a national treasure.

Guardian: ...

Guardian: I don't want to hear these things. I am here to hear the password, and nothing more. Please find someone else to express your feelings to.

MC: Hey, it's not just my feelings. It's the objective truth. I have a definitive proof —

Guardian: You have one try remaining.

Guardian: **What is the Devildom's treasure?**

Oh well, it was worth a try. Let's brace myself for the worst.

MC: Diavolo.

Guardian: **Wrong**!

The construct's shimmering features are twisting in a grimace.

MC: Come on, you only think it's wrong because you haven't spoken to Diavolo for long. If you talk to him and watch him like I do, I'm certain you would appreciate his hard work, and his vision for the Devildom, not to mention how cute he is —

Guardian: I am telling you **your answer is wrong**!

Guardian: **The password my master has set up is DIFFERENT!**

Of course it would be different. Diavolo is not afflicted with narcissism. He's not about to declare himself the Devildom's national treasure.

Still, this construct must privately agree with me, right? Even if it doesn't say so out loud. I mean, who in the Devildom doesn't admire Diavolo? (Belphie excluded, but that's pure jealously on his part.)

MC: Even if my answer is different from the password, that doesn't make it **wrong**.

MC: Don't you think so, too?

Guardian: **It doesn't matter what I think!**

MC: Look, if we both agree on a point, doesn't that make it an objective tr —

Guardian: **SAYING IT THRICE DOES NOT MAKE IT TRUE!**

...Somehow, I've managed to aggravate a construct. This is actually quite an achievement. Artificial creations don't really have much of a temper. They only get upset if their internal values or main directives come into conflict.

Guardian: **INTRUDER!**

The construct vanishes, and I feel the floor under my feet sink by a few millimeters.

My stomach lurches. It cannot be...

I look down.

The carpet I'd been standing on has disintegrated, revealing the chalk lines underneath.

I've made such an elementary mistake.

**I've walked right into a circle.**

Before I can move, the circle activates, trapping me within.


	113. Circle Breaker

Demons don't know it, but there is a very short grace period just after the sealing circle activates, and before the boundary closes in permanently.

During this grace period, trying to physically or magically attack the boundary will be useless, and will only hurt you in the process. However, if you know exactly what you're doing, you can break the circle from the inside.

This is a secret exclusive to humans. This backdoor was built in to make sure the sealing circle can't be used against sorcerers. After all, it was sorcerers who invented it in the first place.

The only truly bad situation would be when you're brought in and sealed inside a circle while unconscious. By the time you wake up, the seal would already be complete.

However, that is not my case. And so, without wasting any time, I drop to the floor, take out my piece of chalk, and start drawing the inverse perimeter on the inside.

You might think that manual floor drawing is quite uncomfortable, and you would be right. I have to crawl around all over the floor, and I can't mess up the shape of chalk lines or the position of symbols. And I have to do it all in a hurry.

However, I have trained myself for speed circle drawing in any situation. And I am wearing armor underneath my uniform that improves my crawling abilities. You know those cute little knee pads and elbow pads that you always see on mage kids, apprentices in training? The ones decorated with cobwebs, cats, and skulls, for luck? Same thing, only much less noticeable.

A true sorcerer wouldn't be caught dead wearing those. But a true sorcerer doesn't have to resort to undignified manual drawing. Anyone with the power and ability can simply scramble the incomplete seal with a few precision strikes.

However, I can't see the threads of magic, and the power at my disposal is wild and unreliable. I can forget about anything requiring precision and control.

Fortunately, I don't have to draw a full circle. Just a few chokepoints would suffice.

As I finish drawing the last symbol, the chokepoints activate, turning the circle inside out, and the seal crumbles.

All right!

But before I can even celebrate my victory, the second circle flares into existence around the first one.

MC: ?!

Yikes, a **double seal**?

Isn't it a bit of an **overkill** for protecting a **single flower**?! Please place such formidable defenses around your collection of precious gemstones, instead!

MC: ...

This is trouble. My grace period is running out, and the second seal is much more complex than the first one. I won't be able to get away with just a few symbols.

If I try to break this seal, there is a pretty good chance that I will fail in the process.

Failing the breaking would be much worse than not trying at all. There is no telling what would happen to the circle that's been tampered with when it activates. But it won't be anything good. I've seen vague references in the grimoires that mention "no surviving witnesses".

Most sorcerers wouldn't even attempt to break out at this point. But I am very good at drawing circles. Much better than your average sorcerer. No, even among the top tier, few would be able to compete with me.

I have a feeling that I can definitely do it.

Is this what Decimus called the failing of Pride, the inability to doubt your own strength?

I admit I'm proud of my circle skills. I am excellent at drawing circles. I've practiced that so many times, there is nothing I can do better.

If I can't even do this, what else is left for me to be proud of? Is there anything at all?

What would be left of me, once you take my pride away?

My identity is already shaky. I only have my promises which I refuse to break, and this — my unfailing skill with the circles.

When it comes to circles, I am without equal. And I am going to prove it. Right now.

I press a hidden switch on my bracelet, activating the multitool — the illusory compass, divider, and light tracer, all in one.

I'm going to draw the lines of power with my chalk, and then I'm going to use those lines to siphon the seal's power from the inside and turn it back against the seal itself.

This is an advanced technique I've read about in **The Reality Hammer** — an expansive grimoire on curse-breaking and circle-breaking. It's full of practices much more vicious and devastating than the curses themselves, and I often read it to help me relax.

Now, I'm finally going to put one of those techniques to practical use.

Guided by my multitool, I am drawing the lines quickly. The symbols along my chalk lines have already started glowing, as the power is being channeled. The power is passing through the lines even as I work on them. I can feel the metaphysical heat under my fingertips, and the hum of power lines. This is terrifying, but at the same time, it's exhilarating, and I can't help but laugh.

I finish the central node, connecting all lines in one.

There is a white-hot flash. I barely manage to jerk away my hands.

The entire circle short-circuits in a shower of blue sparks, while I am right inside it.

I feel my hair stand on end. Literally. The power of the seal is going haywire all around me, the air crackling and sparkling, so saturated with power that I can hardly breathe.

There is a brilliant flash of blue light, and the second seal disintegrates.

MC: ...

I can't believe it actually worked. I thought I was going to be fried. This circle-breaking technique is definitely not safe, haha...

Let's not linger here. The moment the circle is completely gone, I'm going to —

MC: ?!!

I watch, dumbfounded, as **the third seal** flares into being around the second one.

What in the three realms is going on here? Why use a mythical **triple-seal** for protecting a flower?

I mean, yes, triple-seals do exist. Belphie is sealed inside a triple-seal, for example: one magical, one logical, one familial. But that's an appropriate response to his level of threat.

Using a triple-seal for a **flower** , even an extinct one, is going way overboard. I didn't expect something of this magnitude at all!

It would be pure foolishness to keep trying to break out at this point. I definitely won't make it in time. This third seal is too complex for me to break.

I don't want to know what happens when a half-broken seal closes in.

I better give up now and wait until someone comes here and discovers me trapped within the circle. It won't take long. After all, Diavolo needs this flower for tomorrow's meeting. Someone would come here to get it shortly.

And that someone would probably be Barbatos.

I'll have to negotiate the terms of my release with **him**.

MC: ...

I have no delusions about my chances during that negotiation. Barbatos and I have always been on bad terms. And now, he'll hold all the power. I will have no leverage at all.

He's going to place a high price upon my freedom, and that's if I'm lucky. He's probably going to demand that I return to my original reality. If I'm lucky.

If I'm unlucky, he'll just pretend he never saw me, and leave me trapped forever inside this circle.

This is a very real possibility.

Yes, Barbatos has a duty to help Diavolo with his plans. But he also has a duty as a guardian. It's his job to protect Diavolo's treasury from intruders. It won't be strange if he leaves me trapped here forever, just to make an example out of me.

Not to mention, I am not exactly crucial to Diavolo's plans for harmony between the three realms. Diavolo already got everything he wanted out of me. And besides...

Barbatos does all he can to bring Diavolo's plans to fruition, but that doesn't mean he **likes** the results, or the side-effects. After all, even if Diavolo achieves his dream, he is very likely to get hurt in the process. I doubt very much that this is what Barbatos would want. And I don't want that to happen either. I can't even blame Barbatos if he decides to get rid of a...destabilizing factor.

I don't want to negotiate the terms of my existence with Barbatos, because I won't be able to come up with any good arguments in my own defense.

_Once you have served your purpose, you will be disposed of._

Perhaps it was Barbatos who placed this trap for me here in the first place.

In the grand scheme of things, I am an entity they do not need. As evidence shows, I am someone who can be easily replaced with a shadow clone. It's less about who I truly am, and more about what I represent. It's all about who I am linked to.

I still remember that moment when Diavolo spoke those words, and everything changed.

This is solid proof that my whole worth to them is contained within those words only.

_You are a distant descendant of the human Lilith._

MC: Haha.

MC: **Sure I am**.

MC: So **distant** that I have **direct access** to this **infinite well of power**.

I call upon that power, and it responds easily, flooding my entire figure with light. The chalk in my hand is glowing an intense sapphire blue.

Now, I don't even need to draw the symbols in order to create a circle. Now, I can do it like a **true sorcerer** would — simply by touching the chalk to the floor, with a mere expression of my will.

Symbol by symbol, I replicate the third seal, mirroring it completely.

It is a very simple, elementary technique which is never used because it takes too much time. I am going to reflect this entire circle back upon itself, shattering it into fragments.

None of the sorcerers would even attempt it. Nobody can do it. But I can do it, because I am simply a **very special existence**. Isn't that right?

After all, I have "the blood of angels in my veins". So there should be no problem.

Right?

MC: Hah!

I don't care what happens. **No matter what, I can't get trapped here**. If I end up trapped in here, I'll never be able to face Solomon!

Symbol by symbol, I am mirroring the circle. Symbol by symbol, the seal is getting warped. The seal resists me, sizzling and splattering in response. The churning power splashes at my hands.

It burns. I'm going to have blisters.

I have protective gloves in my pocket, but it would take precious seconds to take them out and put them on.

When I am halfway done with my work, I run out of time.

My grace period is over.

And I witness what happens when the tampered circle activates as you are standing inside.

The reality is warping around me, collapsing in on itself. I am being pulled into nothing beyond nothing. This is a singularity within time-space.

I end up in complete darkness, in a non-space without any direction.

I will never find my way out of here. Everything looks the same to me. I can't tell which way leads back.

MC: Luke...

He is not here. He's gone back to the Celestial Realm. He can't hear me.

There is nobody left who can hear me. There is no one who can see me for who I truly am.

MC: Nine!

In the distance, I can hear a responding "Oou".

MC: Nine? NINE!

Did I imagine that sound?

This time, there is a very distinct, clear HOWL.

It came from over there!

I start moving towards the howl, using it like a guiding thread. The howl goes on and on, lingering in the time-space beyond realities, a clear, unbroken note that suspends time itself.

I am getting closer to the source of that sound.

Now, the darkness recedes, and I can see something.

An immense shadowy figure emerges out of the darkness, wisps of dark smoke trailing it its wake.

It's the shadow wolf!

And it has a familiar black-and-white pattern on its back.

MC: Nine, you came for me!

Nine: **URMA**.

The shadow flattens and twists, and before I know it, I find myself sitting upon Nine's back.

And then we're moving, faster than the speed of thought.

MC: Ahaha! I am riding the shadow wolf! **How awesome is that**? Aaaaaah!

It's like riding the night itself.

Nine is racing in the space-time between realities, trying to get away from the warp created by the broken seal.

With unsteady fingers, I remove a simple bracelet made out of bronze from my left wrist.

This is the only thing that will work in the space between realities. My option of last resort.

We're almost far enough for this to work. The fabric of time-space is getting more stable.

MC: Hang in there, Nine! We're almost there!

 **Now**.

I activate the portal on the bracelet.

It works. The bracelet disintegrates, and a portal rift opens.

We're pulled through the rift, and emerge inside a room I've never seen before.


	114. Pet's Owner

I glance around quickly. The room is surprisingly normal. I guess I expected something more heavily protected. After all, this place is **real**. It's not a metaphysical place of power.

Of course, there might be defenses I cannot see. There is a carpet here.

MC: ...

So this is where he's been staying. I've been wondering where he lives now, since he can't stay in the Purgatory Hall anymore. This looks like a house...

More importantly, it looks like nobody is here right now. This is an ideal turn of events. Maybe we can leave this place without having to greet its owner.

Of course, doing so would be impolite. But I am unprepared to meet him.

Well, I am never prepared. But the current situation is especially tricky, because I have Nine here with me.

Nine has turned back into his original form, and he's looking at me inquiringly.

Nine: Warru?

MC: Nothing to worry about. Now that we're out, it's my turn to take care of you.

MC: Come on, let's get a move on —

I fall silent. I can hear approaching footsteps, neither slow nor hurried. Someone is coming to the door.

Shoot. It's too late to flee. He's here now.

I whisper frantically to Nine.

MC: Play dead!

Nine: Orrm.

Nine lies on the floor, and closes his eyes.

MC: And don't mind whatever you'll hear me saying about you. I don't mean any of it. Got it?

Nine blinks quietly to show his understanding.

The carpet starts humming under my feet. The owner of the house has activated the hidden defenses.

But he hasn't deployed any of those defenses yet.

The door opens.

I step in front of Nine and show a bright smile.

MC: Hello, Master!

Solomon: Yes...hello.

Solomon is wearing a bathrobe. That's unusual. I must have interrupted him taking a bath. Or maybe he was just relaxing.

As I am examining him, he is examining me. His gaze moves over my figure, lingering on my hands, then flickers over to Nine.

I smile even brighter.

Solomon lets go of the house's defenses, and the hum under my feet dies down.

I breathe a sigh of relief. Apparently, he has dismissed Nine as a non-threat. That's the first hurdle cleared...

Solomon finishes examining me, and shakes his head.

Solomon: Look what the cat dragged in.

MC: Ahaha...I'm sorry, Master.

I don't know how or when, but my uniform has gotten singed, and I am all covered in chalk.

Quietly, I draw my blistered hands into my scorched sleeves. It would be ideal to hide my hands in my pockets, but doing so is actually a severe breach of etiquette while visiting a sorcerer's home, and might even be considered an act of hostility.

MC: I apologize for coming here uninvited. I ended up using that portal you gave me. It really saved me. Thank you.

Solomon: You don't need to thank me. I wasn't quite sure if that experimental model would even work.

Solomon: What happened to the carrier bracelet?

MC: The bracelet couldn't take the strain. It just disintegrated.

Solomon: That's quite a feat. It's not easy to completely drain a portal of its power, to the point where the carrier material is gone.

Solomon: I'd love to hear **all about how it happened**.

MC: I'll be sure to write a full report for you. Y-you must be busy now. I didn't mean to interrupt. Don't mind me, I'll just be on my wa—

Solomon: **Take a seat**.

Urk.

I plop in the armchair Solomon has pointed at.

This exposes Nine to Solomon's line of sight.

Solomon: And who might that be?

MC: No one of importance! Just an insignificant lower demon I'm using as a ride. Please ignore him.

Solomon: That's **interesting**. The two of you have come out of the space beyond realities together.

Solomon: I don't think I've ever seen you use a **demon** as your **traveling companion** out there before.

Solomon: This **insignificant lower demon** who is **playing dead** right now must be **someone special**.

I feel cold sweat trickle down my spine.

MC: There's nothing **interesting** or **special** about him! He's just an ordinary lower demon.

Solomon smiles.

Solomon: Is that so?

Solomon: Then, if you have no interest in him, do you mind if **I take him as my pet**?

Ye gods, my worst fears are coming true! This is EXACTLY what I've been trying to avoid! How did this conversation **derail so fast**?

Time for desperate measures.

MC: Master, why would you want a **demon** as your pet? I can be your pet, instead!

I raise my hands and hold them above my head, like cat ears. I flap my hands, to imitate the ears moving.

MC: Meow!

Solomon: ...

Okay, that did the trick. I think.

Solomon has looked away from Nine, and he's staring at me now. His eyes have widened, and I can even see his pupils dilating.

I have managed to render him speechless.

That's a good sign, right? He's either interested or shocked. Either works for me.

Let's keep his attention. I don't care if the methods I have to use are unscrupulous and gross. I don't want to lose Nine!

MC: Your cute apprentice can be your pet, meow!

MC: Master, you already have meow, why would you need anyone else?

Solomon: ...Stop it.

His voice sounds strangled.

Is this no good? Could it be, Solomon is a dog person instead? I pegged him as a cat person with an almost 99% certainty, but I might've been wrong.

MC: ...Woof?

Solomon covers his eyes.

Solomon: Are you that desperate to keep this demon away from me?

Solomon: Are you really **that attached** to him?

MC: I admit I'm possessive of him, but that's only because of my Greed. You know how I can get, sometimes...

Solomon nods, an involuntary gesture.

MC: ...I just can't help it.

MC: I was worried that if you saw us arrive together, you might get the wrong idea. You might think that this demon has reality-defying powers like Barbatos, or something like that.

MC: I was afraid you'd become interested in him and then you'd easily take him away from me.

MC: You're so charismatic, I have no chance to compete with you. It makes me feel a bit insecure. I ended up panicking...

A healthy doze of truth can only serve to my advantage here.

Solomon: You think I'd try to get my hands on any interesting demon I come across?

Solomon: Is that how you see me?

I laugh nervously.

MC: Master, you are a bit of a **collector**.

Solomon: That's a bit rich, coming from **you**.

MC: A-anyway! This demon entered the space between realities when I called him, but I think he just followed me through the warp in the broken circle. It's not like he has any special powers that allow him to pick and choose realities and traverse the space-time at will, like Barbatos does.

MC: Speaking of the broken circle, let me tell you all about my spectacular failure to rob Diavolo's treasury —!

Solomon: Before that, hold out your hands.


	115. Sancard

I am sitting in the armchair, my blistered hands soaking in a bowl full of a swamp-green, fragrant solution that feels very cooling and soothing. Nine is lying at my feet, no longer playing dead, and he's gnawing enthusiastically on a glittering bone shaped like a symbol of Nmet.

MC: — and then I drew the Sieger - Aggregator pattern, and the circle started to SIZZLE like this: ssSSzzt, bzZZzt! vsssSSST!

Solomon, who is sitting opposite me, observing me in silence, nods thoughtfully.

Nine: (chew, chew!)

MC: I connected the lines with the central node, and the whole thing started to HUM like this: hmmm, hMMmmm, HMMMM! Sparkle, SPARKLE!

Solomon: (nod)

Nine: (gnaw, gnaw!)

MC: FLASH!

MC: And so, the second seal collapsed.

Solomon: Not bad.

MC: ...But just then, the third seal appeared. The THIRD!

Just thinking back on it, I am filled with disbelief again.

MC: Who **does** this sort of thing? A whole triple-seal, and for what? All of that, to protect a single flo — frumhm.

Dammit, I almost spoke it out loud.

Ahem. During my overly elaborate report, I've glossed over a few key details. For example, I've neglected to mention **what exactly** I've been trying to steal.

I also didn't see fit to mention the fact that I failed to notice the circle underneath the carpet, because I was too distracted by the flower. Or that I proceeded with the circle-breaking way past the point where it was sensible.

I'm trying to distract Solomon from my sheer incompetence. I always want to show off in front of him, in order to impress him properly and make him want to keep me as his apprentice. It's not like I don't have the ability to do so, if I put my mind to it.

But for some reason, I always end up showing him something disgraceful. It's almost started to feel like a Curse.

Solomon: A single **what**?

Solomon: What exactly have you been trying to steal from Diavolo's treasury?

Solomon: You're avoiding the subject.

MC: W-well...

Trust Solomon to zero in on the very thing I want to keep hidden.

Solomon: Is this something you can't tell me?

MC: No, I can. I can, it's just... embarrassing.

Humiliating.

MC: Master, please allow me to keep my dignity.

What's left of it, anyway.

MC: This information is not important. And if you still want to know, I'll tell you tomorrow.

After I get that flower from Diavolo.

MC: I'd rather you see me in the best possible light...

Solomon gets up from his chair. I am watching warily as he walks over to a cabinet and starts rummaging inside. I can hear the tinkling of glass. Is he looking for another potion?

Solomon returns with an opened bottle of what looks like wine. He pours a cup.

Solomon: Here, why don't you have a drink?

MC: Sounds good.

All that circle work has made me parched.

He offers me the cup, and then he realizes that both of my hands are occupied.

He pauses while holding the cup.

I make a motion to take my hand out of the bowl.

Solomon: No, keep your hands inside the regenerating solution.

Solomon: If your hands don't heal properly, those blisters might leave scars.

MC: Right...

Solomon brings the cup to my mouth carefully, and I take a sip.

MC: It has a nice smell. What is this? Doesn't taste like a potion.

Solomon: (SIGH)

Solomon: You tend to drink something first, and only then do you ask what's that you just drank. It's a bad habit of yours that needs to be corrected.

Solomon: This will be a **lesson** for you.

I take another sip from the cup. It feels really comforting. I can tell at once that it's a beverage of a magical nature, and not food.

MC: If it's from your hands, Master, I will even drink poison!

Solomon's hand jerks, and the drink in the cup splashes.

Solomon: Ah...

MC: But if I have to lose my life in this reality, could you schedule that event until **after** our apprenticeship ceremony?

Solomon: ...If you lost your life in this reality, how would you be able to **learn** from this lesson?

Good point. The penalty would come into effect. There's a pretty good chance that I'd lose my memory, and forget exactly what has destroyed my physical form.

Solomon places the cup next to my healing bowl.

Solomon: Wait a minute, I'll clean this up.

Solomon opens another cupboard and looks inside.

Solomon: Don't think that losing your life can release you from this apprenticeship, by the way. Our bond will hold, no matter which reality or world.

Solomon: I see you haven't even started on your tasks, and you're already looking to shirk your responsibilities.

MC: No, it's nothing like that —!

Yikes, how does he know I haven't even been able to decipher his scroll?

MC: I assure you, I am **fully committed** to this relationship!

Solomon: I'll believe it when I see the **proof**.

The flower...

MC: I'm working on it, I'm working on it! I'll make it in time, for sure!

I definitely will, **no matter what**.

I lean towards the cup and manipulate it with my mouth to finish drinking from it.

There is a sound of glass shattering. I look up to see Solomon standing next to a cupboard, with a perplexed expression on his face.

Solomon: I thought it was a cleaning cupboard here, but it's actually full of vials.

I suppose he only recently moved in, and didn't have the time to organize his possessions.

MC: When my hands are healed, I can help you with organization, if you want.

MC: I remember the layout of your place of power, after all. I can just arrange the things the same way here.

CHOMP.

Nine has finally bitten his glittering bone in half, and he's happily chewing on the fragments now.

Solomon: Yes, I recall you said something about doing **household chores** when you first made your offer of apprenticeship to me...

Oh, good. As vague as his reply is, that's not a no. He must be amenable to the idea.

And, he remembers what I said that time? I can't even recall half of all the things I've said, myself.

I feel like I should be more worried about the unknown concoction I've just consumed. But instead, I feel warm and fuzzy.

Meanwhile, Solomon finally decides to answer my question.

Solomon: You're right, it's not a potion.

Solomon: It's a beverage, called Sancard.

Where did I hear that name?

MC: Oh, right. Decimus has a bottle.

Solomon: It's a popular disinhibitor among demons.

Solomon: It makes those who drink it feel more **relaxed**. Less **reserved**.

Solomon: Under certain circumstances, it can even be used as a **truth serum**.

MC: ...

Don't tell me, because I've refused to answer his question...? I didn't realize he was that curious about it.

Well, I suppose there is no harm in telling him. Why was I so opposed to it in the first place? It's not like I was trying to hide information...

My armchair is feeling more comfortable for some reason.

Solomon sits back in his chair opposite me and smiles at me.

Solomon: Now, where were we?

Solomon: Ah, yes.

Solomon: **What exactly** have you been trying to steal from Diavolo's treasury?


	116. The Aftermath

MC: I wanted to steal the mirage flower, of course!

Solomon: ...

MC: I need it for my apprenticeship, so I must secure it ASAP. This matter **cannot wait**.

Solomon: You still have plenty of time before my deadline.

MC: I do, and Diavolo said he'd give the flower to me tomorrow, but I just didn't feel like waiting until then.

MC: So many things could change overnight, and why should I do this on **Diavolo's** terms, anyway? He's **planning** something, I just **know** it.

MC: I don't like responding to someone else's moves.

MC: I want to have the initiative. I want to be in control. Otherwise, I'd feel restless and frustrated.

MC: There is nothing I hate more than being **kept in the dark!**

MC: (splash!)

Solomon: Careful, don't splash. Keep your hands inside that solution.

MC: I don't want to be left wondering, "What exactly is going on? Things don't seem right," and "What's going through his mind? He's planning something," and "What is he hiding from me?"

MC: I prefer being the one making all the moves. And everyone else should be wondering what I'm thinking, what I'm planning, and what on Earth I'm hiding from them.

Solomon: This explains a **lot**.

MC: I made that robbery decision on a whim, so I didn't expect a trap.

MC: It's difficult for Barbatos to predict the future that stems from whimsical decisions. The future is always changing, so he only keeps track of the most probable outcomes — with the exception of his **bookmarks,** of course.

MC: I've seen the way he works. For minor matters, he mostly ignores the improbable branches that differ from the main one too much.

MC: He'd have to keep checking the future probabilities all the time, if he wants to see a branch that's just sprouted.

MC: And besides, who would suspect that I'd use robbery again? Lightning does not strike twice, and all that. It seemed like an unpredictable choice.

MC: But somehow, I walked right into a triple-sealed trap.

Solomon: **That** is my fault.

MC: What do you mean?

Solomon: After you told me who has the flower, I met with Diavolo, and I demanded that he give the flower to me, as a reparation for his wrongful attempt to detain me inside a pentagram.

...What? Solomon did WHAT?

Sure, it's only natural that he'd want reparation, but why ask for the flower when he could have something much better?

Not to mention, didn't Solomon make that flower a condition for my apprenticeship? But he went and tried to acquire it himself? How was I supposed to give it to him if he already had it?

Or maybe, Solomon meant for me to take the flower from **him** , and not from Diavolo — as a sort of an entry test?

That...would be a hundred times more difficult than simply stealing it from Diavolo's treasury.

MC: ...What did Diavolo say to that?

Solomon: He flatly refused.

No surprises there.

Solomon: Instead, he offered me other compensation, which I turned down.

Solomon: We weren't able to come to an agreement, and our negotiation is still ongoing.

Solomon: In addition, he told me that if I were to try and take the flower from him by force, I would be met with **undesirable consequences**.

Solomon: If I had the slightest suspicion that you were going to **use robbery** in your acquisition **again** , I would've warned you of his threat.

Solomon: After I've made my intentions clear to him, he must have taken extraordinary measures to protect the mirage flower.

MC: So, that triple-seal...

Solomon: In all likelihood, that triple-seal was meant for **me**.

Solomon: It's not surprising that you ended up injured. It's more surprising that you've managed to break free.

Solomon: (sigh)

Solomon: I regret that you ended up caught in a trap meant for me. And moreover, because of the task I gave you.

Solomon: If I knew this would happen, I would've done things differently.

Solomon looks disheartened...

MC: ...

MC: I, on the other hand, don't regret attempting this robbery at all. Although it would've been better if I didn't fail, this outcome is also good.

MC: I'd much rather do something than sit still, waiting for the blow to fall.

MC: And I ended up wrecking the circle that was meant as a trap for my Master!

MC: That'll teach Diavolo not to use traps against you.

Solomon: ...

MC: I feel so much better now. I feel very satisfied.

* * *

Meanwhile, in Diavolo's treasury...

Diavolo stands in front of the wrecked circle, speaking to the Guardian.

Next to them, the mirage flower shines brightly behind the enchanted glass.

Diavolo: Show me the intruder.

A shimmering image appears in the air, the illusory record of the human who came here before. The human is gesturing animatedly, with an air of earnest persuasion belied by a rather shady, devious smile, which the human clearly believes to be a kind, friendly one.

Diavolo: ...

Diavolo: Enough.

The image disappears.

Diavolo: Open the log of the three most recent password attempts.

Guardian: The log is open, Lord.

Diavolo: What is the Devildom's treasure?

Guardian: "Diavolo."

Diavolo: !

Barbatos: How very **narcissistic** of you, Young Master.

Diavolo jumps.

Diavolo: Oh, Barbatos. I didn't notice you come in. When did you get back?

Barbatos: My apologies for startling you.

Barbatos: I have returned just now.

Diavolo: Welcome back. I am relieved to see you made it back safely.

Barbatos: I've considered announcing my presence. But seeing you busy with the treasury's defenses, I thought best not to interrupt.

Diavolo: Despite your misgivings, however, you **interrupted just fine**.

Barbatos: That was very graceless of me.

Barbatos: But upon hearing that **password** , I just couldn't help myself.

Diavolo: ...Do you need something?

Barbatos: Only to deliver my report to you, Young Master.

Barbatos: Oh, and I've been having trouble contacting my two minions, who are not responding to my calls.

Barbatos: Is there any chance you might have heard of what they're doing?

Diavolo: Slither and Fluffy are on a secret mission right now. This involves the Grand Assembly. Give them 24 hours before contacting them again.

Barbatos: ...I did not realize that you knew the **names** of my minions, Young Master.

Barbatos: Even more surprising is the fact that you'd be willing to contact them directly and put them to work on a mission of great importance.

Barbatos: I thought you disapproved of using **mercenaries** , and you wanted nothing to do with them.

Diavolo: They have their uses.

Diavolo: And besides, they might be mercenaries, but they've been working for you exclusively for the last ten millennia, which makes them **somewhat** worthy of my trust.

Barbatos: ...

Diavolo turns back to the Guardian.

Diavolo: What are the other two password attempts?

Guardian: All three attempts are the same, Lord.

Barbatos: My, is this the Trap Guardian that says "Incorrect" no matter which password you attempt?

Diavolo: ...

Diavolo: (Why is Barbatos still here? He should've realized I've just dismissed him. Do I have to say it out loud?)

Diavolo: No. It's a normal password Guardian. There is a correct response.

Barbatos: I admit I am curious why you saw fit to install a Guardian, considering that there is no need for a password here. The treasury's defenses are built to recognize your presence.

Diavolo: (Since when has Barbatos been expressing his curiosity so overtly?)

Barbatos: Especially since a Guardian like this would not be sufficient to even give a pause to Solomon.

Diavolo: ...I'm sure you're tired from a long journey.

Diavolo: Why don't you go and get some rest until I am finished here?

Diavolo: I will listen to your report later.

Barbatos bows, and he's gone.

Once outside, Barbatos pauses at the door. He can hear the faint voices coming from inside the treasury.

Diavolo: All three attempts are the same? Is it possible there's an error in the log?

Guardian: There is no error, Lord. The response is "Diavolo," thrice repeated. Would you like to watch the full voiced recording?

Diavolo: No.

Diavolo: ...Yes. Play the recording.

_ding._

Barbatos takes out his D.D.D.

It's a message from Solomon.

Barbatos hesitates for a long moment before opening it.

There is no text in the message, and it only contains a picture of a dagger.

Barbatos: !!

With a hiss of pain, Barbatos stuffs the D.D.D. back into his pocket, peels off his gloves, and examines his hands.

Before his eyes, both of his hands are turning red and covered in blisters.

Barbatos breathes a sigh of relief.

Barbatos: (It's a minor backlash, this time. A simple concoction will take care of this in a few minutes.)

Barbatos: (He must be in a good mood.)


	117. The Interrogation

Solomon: All right, I get the gist of what happened.

Solomon: You stepped into the circle because you were too distracted by the flower, and didn't pay attention to the carpet.

MC: Yup.

Solomon: You felt that the trap was a direct challenge to your circle-drawing skills.

MC: Yup, yup.

Solomon: And you found the idea of having to negotiate with Barbatos for your freedom from inside the circle to be distasteful.

MC: Exactly.

MC: I don't want to see him. I don't want to talk to him. I don't want to deal with him.

MC: Not when I'm inside a circle, anyway.

Solomon: So you **went all out** trying to break free.

Solomon: Even though it was **by no means reasonable**.

Solomon is smiling at me. Even through the pleasant haze induced by Sancard, I have a feeling of danger.

MC: ...Although I don't regret the outcome, I know I've made a mistake.

MC: I shouldn't have attempted to break the third seal. I knew I was going to fail. **I knew**.

Solomon: So why did you do it, then?

MC: I wasn't thinking straight.

MC: Right before the circle debacle, there was a strange incident involving a painting. It made my mind and my power all messed up. That might have affected my judgement.

Solomon: Oh?

Solomon frowns.

Solomon: Tell me **everything** about that.

I recount what happened after I looked at the painting of a demon and a human child.

Solomon: ...And afterwards, the Curse I cast on you activated again?

MC: Yes, that's what it felt like.

MC: It felt like it activated and acted as a counter-Course. That's how I was able to get out of the range of the painting.

I am watching Solomon's face, waiting for his reaction.

But he has that expression on his face now. That impenetrable poker face of his, half-smiling and at ease, and completely unreadable. Even his eyes are like two closed doors.

I get a feeling, however, that he is thinking hard.

MC: Do you think that painting was Cursed? Did it show me an illusion?

No response.

MC: Or was it a real memory?

Again, Solomon says nothing.

MC: Master, you would know for sure what happened there.

MC: You can tell what's real and what's fake, and you can tell apart subreality from dreams and false visions from real memories.

MC: I've seen what you can do. I need your expertise on this.

MC: There is no one else I can trust to tell me what really happened.

Finally, Solomon replies.

Solomon: After our apprenticeship ceremony is done, I will prepare Elucidator for you.

Solomon: That potion is difficult to make and it requires many rare ingredients that are hard to procure, so I need time to prepare it.

Solomon: Elucidator can get rid of all false memories and false visions, and it will remove all mental barriers.

Solomon: Once you drink that potion, the truth will be revealed to you.

Solomon: You will know everything about the origin of your power.

Solomon: You'll have to drink that potion under my supervision, however, because there might be unknown consequences.

Solomon: Often, memory suppressors are used for the benefit of the subject, and not the other way around, so there's no telling what would happen once those barriers are removed.

Solomon: If I judge the situation too dangerous, I will reverse the potion's effects.

Solomon: I'll do all of that as my welcome gift to you for becoming my official apprentice.

Solomon: You're not the only one who has to prepare a gift for the ceremony, after all.

MC: Master, that's awesome!

Solomon: Yes, yes.

MC: I am both anxious about it and looking forward to it. But if you're the one doing it, I'm sure it'll be fine.

Solomon: In the meanwhile, put this matter out of your mind.

Solomon: ...I hope you're not planning to rob Diavolo's treasury **again**?

MC: Of course not!

Solomon: The effects of Sancard will wear off soon, so let's make the most out of it.

Solomon: Now then...

Solomon leans back in his seat.

Solomon: Tell me everything you know about **this lower demon**.

Nine, who has finished munching on the fragments of his bone, looks up at Solomon.

MC: Oh! I haven't introduced you to each other yet? How remiss of me!

Nine edges close to my table, and he nudges at my empty cup with his nose. With a _tinkle_ , the cup falls to the floor. Nine looks into my eyes meaningfully.

Solomon: (chuckle)

MC: Nothing to worry about, I'm not doing it because of the effects of Sancard.

MC: I was going to introduce you both eventually anyway. I just wanted to make sure that my Master didn't have designs on you first.

MC: Master, this is Nine, the lower demon scout, and the shadow wolf of Greed. He is originally from the Time of Chaos, and he's only recently been reincarnated.

MC: Nine is the idea and the mascot behind Decimus' and Mammon's joint reincarnation project, and he is the foundation of the city of Aspire.

MC: He used to be under the command of the one who reincarnated as Mephistopheles, but not anymore. He belongs to me now, and well as to Decimus and Mammon. Right now, Mammon has assigned Nine to me as my bodyguard.

MC: Nine's value is immeasurable, and if you do something to permanently destroy him, you will make an enemy of both Mammon and Decimus.

Solomon: ...

MC: And I would be **devastated**.

Solomon: ...You've made your point.

MC: Nine, this is Solomon, the human grand sorcerer, and my Master. He is originally from reality Point Zero, which I will tell you about sometime, and he is **absolutely amazing**.

MC: Solomon specializes in mental magic, but he's a perfect all-rounder, although most people know him as a demonologist and an alchemist.

MC: Solomon's good qualities are too numerous to summarize briefly, and if I start to recite them, we'll be here all day. Suffice to say that I have chosen him as my Master, and that should tell you everything you need to know about his greatness.

MC: Follow my Master's orders as you would my own.

MC: But don't ask him to pet you, and don't sleep under his bed either. Remember that you're mine!

MC: ...That is, unless I am sleeping in my Master's bed too. In such a case, an exception can be made.

MC: And if you end up destroyed while following my Master's orders, I will recover your core.

Nine: Orrm.

Nine lowers his head.

Nine: Sorrum, gravarro.

Solomon: I feel like my introduction is lacking. I'd rather you elaborate on my good qualities a bit more...

Nine: Urma, wuu.

MC: Of course, Nine has good qualities and specialties, too!

MC: Nine is not your ordinary lower demon. He has an incredible stealth ability, and he has an unrivaled singing voice.

MC: Nine, sing a song for my Master.

Nine: Orrm.

Nine lifts up his nose and produces a melodic howl.

Nine: Aroooooo!

Solomon and I are listening to the long howl in silence. Even after the song is finished, the sound still lingers in the air.

Solomon: ...That howl felt soothing.

MC: Right? I feel the same way.

What term did Mephistopheles use to describe affinity? He has excellent fawning skills, I should learn from him...

Oh, yeah. I remember now.

MC: Master, we must be **soulmates**.

Solomon: ...

Solomon: This drink has made you very **talkative**.

Solomon: Maybe...it was a mistake.

Solomon speaks in a low voice.

Solomon: But even so, there are advantages.

Abruptly, Solomon holds out his hand and beckons Nine.

Solomon: Come here.

Cautiously, Nine moves closer to him.

MC: Master, are you going to **pet** him? Are you taking advantage of the fact that my hands are occupied and I cannot pet him? Are you going to charm him into becoming yours?

MC: But even if I can't pet Nine with my **touch** , I can still pet him with my **words**!

Solomon: It's not like that.

Solomon: I just noticed something.

Solomon reaches out his hand, and with a _clink_ , he removes something dangling around Nine's neck.

Solomon: This lower demon is carrying a **message**.


	118. Private Correspondence

MC: Oh, this must be a reply from Satan.

MC: I sent Nine to deliver a message to him, and I expect a response.

Solomon is holding up a small metallic cylinder.

Solomon: Do you want to read Satan's message?

MC: I want to read it. Give it to me.

Solomon: You have to wait until your hands heal.

MC: I don't want to wait. I want to read the message **right now**.

MC: (splash!)

Solomon: Calm down. Keep your hands inside the regenerating solution.

MC: But —!

Solomon heaves a theatrical sigh.

Solomon: I suppose it can't be helped, if you're so impatient.

Solomon: **I'll read the message for you.**

MC: Thank you, Master!

Nine nudges the fallen cup with his nose, producing a **tinkle**.

MC: What is it, Nine? Do you want something to play with?

Nine gives me a pained look.

Solomon: (chuckle)

Solomon opens the cylinder, knocks on its edge until a rolled paper falls out, and unfolds the note.

With a careless motion, he brushes off some sort of spell, or maybe a Curse that's been placed on the note, and starts reading.

Solomon: "Dear Secret Admirer (crossed out) Adversary,"

MC: H-hey, hey. Wait a second.

This opening line already has a lot of information.

First of all, how does Satan know that I wrote "admirer"? I thought I crossed it out properly. Even Mammon said the word could not be seen at all. Maybe Satan used some sort of magic to see what was originally written underneath the ink? He even used that word to address me directly.

Come to think of it, how does Solomon know?

MC: Master, how do you know what word is crossed out?

Solomon: There is a very faint line crossing out the word "admirer," so the word is easy to read. It's a very **nominal** crossing-out. It's much harder to make out the word "adversary", in fact.

Solomon: Satan couldn't be any clearer about which word he **really** wants to use here.

MC: ...

Solomon: "Dear Secret Admirer (crossed out) Adversary,"

Solomon: "You will be disappointed to hear that I have received your gift of Banesroot gratefully, that I have cooked several delicious dishes with it, and that I have already eaten all of them."

Solomon: "In addition, I have shared the leftovers with my brothers, who devoured them like the pack of starving beasts they are."

Solomon: "It was a challenge to keep the cooking process uninterrupted by Beel, who tried to knock down the kitchen door multiple times when he sensed the delicious smell coming from within."

Solomon: "Eating such a feast has made me very sluggish and relaxed, and I can already feel the itching from my horn decrease, which is a great relief to me."

Solomon: "I'm planning to make more dishes with Banesroot during the upcoming week, which this whole household is looking forward to, myself included."

Solomon: "Your trusted source who poked his nose into my private business and shared my medical data with my admirer (crossed out) adversary, thus worrying my admirer (crossed out) adversary with my troubles deserves to be a target of my ire, but I am so content that I cannot summon any irritation."

Solomon: "P.S. I have included a separate thank-you note for the one who provided the Banesroot."

Solomon finishes reading and folds the note.

MC: Does the note say anything else?

Solomon: What else did you expect?

MC: There should be a closing line. "Sincerely yours," or "Kind regards," or something like that.

Solomon: Satan must have run out of space to add it.

With a single gesture, Solomon incinerates the note in his hand. The note flares up with a purple flame that is normally used to annihilate hazardous substances, and disappears without a trace.

Not even ashes remain.

Solomon: There is **nothing else**.

Nine: ...

MC: ...

Solomon: There could've been a hidden Curse on it.

Solomon: It's best to dispose of messages from your **adversaries** quickly, lest the trouble grows until it's **out of control**.

Solomon turns the cylinder over and shakes a second note out of it.

Solomon: What do you want to do with this one?

MC: Satan doesn't know it, but this second thank-you note is for Diavolo.

MC: I am not sure how to deliver it to him...

Solomon: That's easy. I'll just give it to Barbatos.

Solomon walks over to his desk and places the rolled note into an envelope, adds a paper with his own message to it, and seals the envelope.

With a flash of a teleportation spell, the envelope vanishes from his hand.

Solomon: There, done.

MC: That was fast. Thank you, Master.

Solomon: My pleasure.

Solomon turns to look at Nine, who is examining himself in a large mirror.

Solomon: Is something wrong?

After a moment, Nine turns sideways and shakes his ear.

MC: Nine, why are you shaking your ear like this?

Nine shakes his ear again.

Solomon: Perhaps he is trying to show us something?

MC: Wait, I think I can see something glittering in his ear. Is that a gemstone?

MC: He didn't have a gemstone in his ear before.

Solomon: Let me see.

Solomon examines Nine's ear closely.

Solomon: Yes, it's a gemstone. An emerald, to be precise.

MC: Did Satan...?

Solomon: Almost certainly. Satan pierced Nine's ear and inserted the emerald. I can see the traces of Satan's touch, although he tried his best to erase them.

MC: It's an ear piercing?

Solomon: Remarkable. Satan did such an invasive action, and this lower demon didn't even notice until now.

Solomon: It requires a very light touch, and a distraction. Perhaps Satan did it while Nine was eating.

MC: But why did Satan do it?

Solomon: It's not unusual to gift a lower demon something, as thanks for running an errand.

Solomon: Demons of Greed, in particular, love jewelry and precious gemstones.

Solomon: However... for Satan, using a green gemstone is a proprietary act. It's almost like he's **staking a claim** on Nine.

MC: ...

MC: Well, if Nine likes it, then I have no objection to him wearing it.

Solomon: That's not all.

With a smile, Solomon touches the gemstone, and there is a glow of dark light.

Solomon: This gemstone has a **tracking spell** on it.

Nine: !

MC: ...What?

MC: Wait, is it tracking **right now**?

Unholy deities, don't tell me I **brought a tracking spell into my Master's home**?

I feel blood drain from my face. The shock is strong enough that even the effects of Sancard fade away.

I know I'm prone to messing things up, but this sort of failure is on a whole different level.

Through the odd buzzing in my ears, I can hear my Master's voice.

Solomon: I have anti-trackers on this whole house. Tracking spells are ineffective here. It's not a big deal.

Solomon: **Calm down**.

Solomon is watching me with some concern.

MC: Right. Of course.

MC: Of course...

A wave of relief overwhelms me. Although no thanks to me, the disaster was averted.

My thoughts grow pleasantly hazy again as the effects of the drink return with vengeance.

Solomon returns to studying the gemstone, while Nine is patiently sitting still.

Solomon: If I remove the tracking spell outright, it will arise Satan's suspicions.

Solomon: I'm going to redirect it so that it reports the results to me instead, and Satan will receive a white noise interference signal.

Even as he speaks, Solomon starts working on the spell. A faint glow emanates from his hand.

I recover from the shock, and my speech returns to me.

MC: Master, why would you want to place a tracker on **Nine**? You can place a tracker directly on **me** instead.

Solomon's hand emits a sudden shower of sparkles. Nine's ears twitch, but he doesn't move.

Solomon: ...Please be silent while I'm working on the spell. I need to focus, or else I'm going to mess this up.

MC: Master, you can place the tracker anywhere on my body! I don't mind.

Solomon: Not another word, or I'll **really** take you up on your offer.

MC: Bu —

Solomon: Hush now, or else it's your **pet** who's going to suffer from a failed spell.

MC: Mmmph.

Finally, Solomon finishes his work, and he rewards Nine for his patience with a pat on his head, which Nine seems to like, to my irritation.

Having done with that, Solomon checks his watch.

Solomon: There's still some time left.

Solomon: I just want to ask you a few more questions.


	119. The Cruel One

Solomon: I gave you protective gloves. Why weren't you wearing them during your circle breaking work?

MC: There was no time to put them on.

Solomon: Then you should wear them **all the time**.

MC: But if I do that, I won't feel anything when I pet demons.

MC: And earlier, Mephistopheles even kissed my hand. If I was wearing gloves then, I wouldn't have felt anything —

MC: !

Something changes about Solomon's expression almost imperceptibly. I have a strong feeling of impending danger.

I do an emergency one-eighty.

MC: I'll wear the gloves, I'll wear them **all the time**!

MC: I'll even wear them to bed, and when I'm taking a bath!

If Lucifer can do that, I can, too.

MC: I'll put them on **right now**.

MC: (splash)

Solomon: Not yet. Wait for the regenerating solution to finish its work.

Solomon: Next question...

Solomon: How is Diavolo as a dance partner?

MC: ...

I do not respond.

Perhaps it's my sense of self-preservation finally kicking in, or maybe the effects of Sancard faded enough that my mind has cleared, but I have a strong feeling that I **must not answer that question**.

Solomon is still annoyed by the flower incident, I can tell. And he has started to ask questions the answers to which he doesn't want to hear.

I will only get punished if I give a truthful response.

Solomon: Well, if he was bad at it, I'm sure you wouldn't have danced with him as long as you did.

If you already know, then why are you asking, Master?

Solomon: I lost count of how many dances you went through together, without any pause.

You were watching all the while? What's more, you were counting?

Solomon: If I didn't interrupt you then, who knows if you wouldn't have danced with him **all night long**?

MC: That wouldn't have happened!

Solomon: Really?

MC: ...

Finally, having tortured me with this subject to his satisfaction, Solomon drops it.

Solomon: Last question.

Solomon: Why are you so anxious to retrieve that flower from Diavolo **as soon as you can**?

Solomon: I thought I gave you plenty of time.

MC: I'm worried that if you have time to think about this, you're going to change your mind about this apprenticeship.

Solomon: ...What made you think that?

MC: Because...you seemed dissatisfied earlier...

Solomon mutters under his breath.

Solomon: Well, I'm glad I managed to get my feelings of **dissatisfaction** through to you, at least...

MC: And you stopped messaging me.

Solomon: I don't often send messages. It's nothing unusual.

MC: But you would always send me a photo of your breakfast, and this morning, you didn't send anything!

Solomon: ...I skipped breakfast today.

MC: You never skipped it before, but you did today?

Solomon: ...I was at a venue where a kitchen wasn't available.

MC: That never stopped you before!

Solomon: I didn't realize you were looking forward to it that much.

MC: So you actually didn't send it on purpose!

MC: Master, why you gotta be so mean to me?

To my horror, I can feel my eyes fill with tears, and my lips tremble.

W-what's going on?

I am not the weeping type. I did not cry when my Temporal formation collapsed, or when the Guardian of Arcanum cleaved me in half. I don't even cry at sad movies.

Solomon is watching me with a panic that mirrors my own.

MC: (hic) M-master, your drink is malfunctioning!

Solomon: No, no, this is normal. Everyone has a different reaction, and this is still within the range of typical side-effects. This will pass in a minute.

Your panicked tone doesn't sound very reassuring!

Don't tell me that I'm about to start **sobbing** right now. This is going to become my **most humiliating memory**.

MC: (sniff!)

Solomon: Come to think of it! I was just about to cook dinner.

Solomon: If you want, I'll make you something too.

My tears dry out instantly, to my immense relief.

MC: Really?

Solomon: Yes.

All of a sudden, Solomon gives me a devious smile.

Solomon: Look forward to it.


	120. The Wicked Brew

Finally, I am allowed to remove my hands from the regenerating solution, but I am still not permitted to use them too much, because the healing process is not yet complete.

I am sitting in the kitchen, my hands heavily bandaged over, while Solomon is cooking.

I am watching his creative process with interest. He is throwing ingredients into the cauldron based on, apparently, which colors go together best.

As random as it looks, there seems to be some sort of purpose to his movements. It cannot be called following a recipe, but he seems to have some goal in mind. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to call it inspiration.

I am looking forward to the end result.

Solomon's cooking has quite an infamous reputation, but I'm having my doubts that it's truly **that bad**.

Okay, yes, I don't quite remember what it tasted like, before. I don't really remember what anything tasted like. But I still think people must be exaggerating a little.

I know his cooking was quite a **sensation** during that tour of the Demon Lord's castle, but I think he was just annoyed that he was forced to cook for demons, and that was his retaliation. He just wanted to make sure they wouldn't try using him as a cook again.

And yes, I know that the Purgatory Hall was going to great lengths to remove him from the cooking rotation, but that might be exactly what he was trying to achieve. After all, that left him with more free time to focus on other pursuits.

I do admit it's a little unusual to use an alchemical cauldron for cooking dinner. But Solomon seems to be accustomed to it. He's probably more comfortable with a cauldron, and besides, this kitchen clearly doubles as a lab for casual alchemical experiments. Maybe he didn't have the time to set up a separate kitchen just for cooking yet.

Having finished combining the ingredients, Solomon knocks on the cauldron smartly with a spatula.

A flame salamander pokes his head out of the furnace.

MC: !

Wait. That flame salamander...

I know him.

The flame salamander breathes alchemical fire into the furnace, lighting it up. Then he jumps right into the flames, disappearing within the roaring fire, where he is lazing about, taking a fire bath.

MC: ...Master, is that flame salamander your pet?

Solomon: No, he's just running errands for me.

Solomon: Sometimes I have him help me out with potion brewing, or cooking.

I give the furnace a baneful scowl.

Solomon: ...Is something wrong?

MC: Master, I know that flame salamander. He has **commitment issues**.

MC: Don't get attached to him. He's going to **break your heart**.

Solomon gives a surprised laugh.

Solomon: Are you worried about me?

He sounds very amused.

MC: Master, please take my warning seriously!

MC: You might not be attached to him right now, but who knows what might happen in the future?

MC: Just when you get used to having him around, he's going to **run back into the forest** , leaving you behind.

MC: He's done that before, to others. Multiple times!

Solomon: Yes, I know.

MC: You...do?

Solomon: I often use him to gather information.

Solomon: The easiest way to do so is to temporarily act as the target's pet.

Oh. Um. Something has just occurred to me.

I...might have been inadvertently rude.

Solomon: Is there something you want to ask?

**bubble.**

The substance inside the cauldron produces a sinister green bubble.

MC: Errm...

Let's just ask him directly.

MC: Master, is this flame salamander your **familiar**?

Solomon: No, he's not.

Solomon: I don't have a familiar.

So he says. But in reality, this flame salamander might be his familiar in all but name.

While Solomon makes connections easily, he doesn't let anyone too close. But this flame salamander is even helping him out with his brewing...

**bubble.**

I can feel a pair of glowing eyes staring at me out of the furnace. He recognized me too.

Come to think of it, hasn't this flame salamander been injured recently?

What if he hasn't fully recovered? The injury might negatively affect Solomon via the familiar link, if one is formed in the near future.

This is worrisome.

I fumble with my bandaged hands in my pocket and take out the Essence of Fire, which I toss towards the furnace.

A fiery claw extends out of the furnace and snatches the rolling smoldering ball of Essence.

Solomon makes a noise of disapproval.

Solomon: That's one large Essence of Fire. He didn't do anything to deserve such a treat.

Solomon: And I told you, he's not my familiar.

This is just a precaution in case he becomes one. Flame salamanders can use the Essence of Fire to heal themselves.

MC: A little treat once in a while can't hurt.

**crunch, crunch.**

The flame within the furnace crackles loudly as the flame salamander is crunching on the Essence of Fire. The fire is dancing happily.

Nine is lying next to the furnace, his head on his paws, gazing into the alchemical flame.

Solomon stirs the brew clockwise thrice, then counterclockwise twice.

**bubble, bubble.**

This feels...rather peaceful.

It's not a bad way to spend an evening.

**BUBBLE.**

Solomon looks into the cauldron.

Solomon: I think...it's ready.


	121. Evening Complaints

I contemplate the dish in front of me for a few moments. It is very green, and it distantly resembles a cake.

All right, let's dig in.

MC: (munch, munch)

Solomon is watching me with an expression of hopeful expectation.

I am not entirely sure what he's waiting for. It's a little distracting to eat like this...

MC: (munch, munch, munch)

Before long, I finish the entire cake.

Solomon: ...How was it?

Don't tell me he expects me to grade his cooking?

There's no way he's forgotten that I can't do it. I can't really enjoy food anymore, and my sense of taste has extremely dulled. Basically, everything tastes the same to me, as long as it's edible and not poison.

But he went through all this trouble to make this dish just for me. I should at least make an effort to appreciate it.

I try my best to come up with some sort of relevant comment.

MC: That's a nice-looking cake.

Solomon: That's a soup.

MC: Oh. I thought I smelled broth.

MC: Well, food is food. No need to be bound by any specific conventions.

MC: Nice shade of green, too. Makes me think of swamp for some reason. It's relaxing.

Solomon: Any other impressions?

Solomon: Other than **visual** , I mean.

MC: The texture felt...gratingly smooth.

MC: It's an interesting contradiction.

Solomon: How about the **taste**?

MC: It was...a little salty?

Solomon studies me for a long moment. Then he folds his arms and lets out a long, disappointed sigh.

Solomon: So your sense of taste hasn't returned yet.

MC: Haha...Sorry to disappoint you.

Solomon: I was hoping that your taste buds could be reset if they received a strong enough **shock**.

Don't tell me he was trying to shock me with his cooking on purpose, by making the oddest dish he can manage?

Solomon: However, it's a positive sign that you're finally able to accurately describe the texture, and identify the presence of a large amount of salt in the dish.

I did not realize that Solomon was worried about the condition of my sins.

MC: That soup felt very filling.

MC: Seconds, please.

Solomon shakes his head in dismay, but he does serve me a second helping of the dish.

Before eating it, I snap a picture of the dish and send it to Luke.

[MC: Look, my Master cooked dinner for me.]

Luke has sent me a shuddering sticker.

[Luke: I remember that atrocious cake!]

[MC: That's a soup.]

[Luke: That explains a lot.]

[Luke: Seeing this picture has brought back the memory.]

[Luke: I only took a little bite out of duty, because it looked like an unusual confection, but I can still remember the taste in great detail.]

[Luke: The indescribable, self-contradictory texture... the unforgettable, unnaturally intense saltiness...!]

Luke has sent me a shuddering sticker.

Luke has sent me a shuddering sticker.

[Luke: And it looks like he increased the vividness of green.]

[Luke: I'm going to drink some water.]

MC: Master, you already cooked that soup for Luke?

Solomon: It was a prototype.

Solomon: You're getting the final version.

MC: I'll alpha-taste your prototypes! Don't serve them to others before me.

MC: I know I can't really offer any useful feedback, since my taste buds are busted right now, but even so, I want to be **the first**!

Solomon: (SIGH)

Solomon: If you insist.

The night lamps in the kitchen light up.

MC: It's getting late.

MC: I should probably head back.

I don't really want to move, though.

Solomon: You should spend the night here.

Solomon is frowning.

Solomon: I am worried about the consequences of your **excursion** to Diavolo's treasury.

Solomon: It's better if you remain under my observation a little longer.

MC: That sounds good, but I can't fall asleep without my enchanted nightgown.

MC: And I left it in my room at Aspire.

Solomon: That's for the best. Enchanted sleep isn't healthy. You need to get natural rest.

Solomon: Don't worry. If you stay here, sleep won't be a problem.

He sounds pretty confident about that. I wonder what methods he has in mind?

Solomon: I'll show you to your room.

Surprisingly enough, my room turns out to be more tidied up than the rest of the house combined, and it even has a wardrobe with a number of garments, all fitting me.

I change out of my scorched uniform and take a bath.

Nine attempts to join me in the bathroom, in order to keep vigil, but Solomon drags him out of there very firmly.

I remove my bandages and find my hands completely healed. I don't even see a trace of damage anymore.

I should send a message to Decimus.

But how should I phrase it?

Upon some reflection, I decide to be as forthcoming as possible. He'll know eventually anyway.

Without getting out of the bathtub, I take my D.D.D. and send a message.

[MC: I'm going to sleep over at my Master's place.]

[Decimus: Yes, I know.]

[Decimus: Solomon has already informed me.]

MC: !

In my surprise, I accidentally kick the bathtub.

MC: Ouch!

Solomon calls out to me through the bathroom door.

Solomon: Is something wrong?

MC: Master, you told Decimus about our relationship?

Solomon: Why do you sound so surprised?

Solomon: Were you planning to hide this from him **indefinitely**?

Solomon: When were you going to introduce me?

I splutter in outrage, nearly inhaling a mouthful of foam.

MC: You're the one who told me not to even mention your **name** —!

Solomon: Obviously, the situation has changed.

 **Obviously**? Since when has it become obvious?

_ding._

Mammon has sent me an outraged sticker.

Mammon has sent me an outraged sticker.

Mammon has sent me an outraged sticker.

MC: Um...

What's this about? Don't tell me Mammon is opposed to my apprenticeship?

[MC: Sup?]

Mammon has sent me an outraged sticker.

...I guess the previous three stickers weren't strong enough to express his feelings.

[Mammon: How could ya do that to me?!]

[Mammon: I told ya I wanted in, didn't I?!]

[MC: What are you talking about?]

[Mammon: Why would ya go rob Lord Diavolo's treasury, and not take ME along?]

Oh. It's about THAT.

[MC: How do you know what happened?]

[Mammon: How could I NOT know?]

[Mammon: It's all everyone's talkin' about!]

Seriously? Even though nobody was in the treasury with me, the rumors have already spread?

Next time, I should pay closer attention to any crows listening in.

[Mammon: And ya even sold the stolen goods without me!!]

Wha?

[Mammon: Who did ya use as a fence?!]

[MC: No one.]

[MC: I didn't manage to steal anything from the treasury to begin with. There's nothing to sell.]

[MC: The robbery was a complete failure.]

[Mammon: Then how come there are many rare items from Lord Diavolo's treasury bein' sold on the black market right now?!]

Now I see what's going on.

[MC: Those items are forged.]

[MC: The underground must be taking advantage of the uproar in order to make some quick cash from selling forged items amidst all the confusion.]

[MC: This isn't the first time they've done so, after all.]

Mammon really should've realized what was happening. He must not be thinking clearly for some reason. Don't tell me Decimus has tired him out so much that his mind has muddled.

[Mammon: Oh.]

[Mammon: That...makes sense.]

[Mammon: But still! You should've taken me with ya!]

[Mammon: Then this robbery wouldn't have ended up in failure!]

[MC: I only wanted to steal a single item, and it was not for sale. It's practically mine already, anyway. Diavolo is just holding it temporarily.]

[MC: If I took you along, you wouldn't have been able to help yourself, and you would've stolen one of Diavolo's own treasures, and then even Lucifer wouldn't have been able to shield you.]

[MC: I don't want to be the reason for your downfall.]

[MC: The last thing I want is to lead you to your doom.]

[Mammon: I don't mind if it's you.]

Mammon has sent me a blushing sticker.

MC: ...

I didn't want to hear that.

In fact, it's a pretty bad thing that I've read his words. Now I won't be able to forget them.

If mine and Mammon's story had two outcomes — a good ending and a bad ending — this moment would definitely be +100 to the bad ending.

On a scale from 1 to 20.

Let's just...pretend I've never read that.

Mammon goes on, seemingly oblivious to what just happened.

[Mammon: That was one of the get-rich-quick schemes I was gonna propose, anyway.]

[MC: You wanted us to steal Diavolo's treasure, in order to get rich?]

[Mammon: Well...not exactly.]

[Mammon: Ya didn't want to get as rich as Lord Diavolo.]

[Mammon: Ya wanted to get as rich as the Demon King.]

MC: ...

He wanted to **steal the Demon King's treasure**?

[MC: Not another word.]

[Mammon: Right...]

[MC: Don't even think about it.]

[Mammon: Yeah...]

[MC: Let me amend what I've said before.]

[MC: I won't lead you to your doom, and I won't let you walk to your doom on your own, either.]

[MC: When I get back to Aspire, remind me to give you a thorough disciplining session.]

[MC: I'll make sure to drive all ideas of royal treasuries out of your mind.]

[MC: After I am done with you, you won't be able to think of anything at all for a while.]

Mammon has sent me a blushing sticker.

...Seriously, what kind of reaction is that? I want to see some **apprehension**.

The water in the bathtub is cooling down. I've had a good soak already. I should get out soon.

_ding-ding._

Oh? It's a **call** from Belphie.

Maybe he has an update on his task to report!

I open the mirror app.


	122. Belphegor's Report

The mirror app starts up, and I look at my own reflection.

But the next moment, the surface of the mirror blurs, and reflection changes.

Belphie's eye appears in the mirror.

It blinks.

After a slight delay, I can hear Belphie's voice.

Belphegor: I have something to report.

Belphegor: Take a look at this.

The mirror blurs again, and shows me a picture.

It's a photo of Diavolo.

MC: !

At a first glance, Diavolo looks very stern. His lips are pressed together into a thin line, and he's glowering.

But upon closer inspection, I can see that his frowning expression looks forced, and his eyes are gleaming with amusement.

MC: Is he...trying not to laugh?

Belphegor: So you can see it too?

Belphegor: He's holding back a smile on purpose!

MC: You've messed up. He's onto you.

MC: I **told** you not to let him know about your task to make him smile.

Belphegor: That's not my fault!

Belphegor: I haven't even done anything so far. I simply dispatched the spying ghost, assigning him to follow Lord Diavolo everywhere and take a picture of him whenever it looks like he's about to smile.

Belphegor: A demon's mood changes frequently throughout the day. And Lord Diavolo is not like Lucifer, with his constant poker face. He is expressive. Even if I don't do anything, Lord Diavolo would definitely smile at some point.

I have to admit that's a pretty efficient plan, if an extremely low-effort one.

Belphegor: But somehow, he's found out about my task, and now he refuses to smile, just to spite me!

So Diavolo knows.

Upon reflection, it's not surprising. Even Belphie has a spy in the castle, and this castle is not even his. It would be strange if Diavolo did not have any listening ears of his own.

Well, it's unfortunate that Belphie wasn't able to meet my condition. However, it looks like his halfhearted efforts are entertaining Diavolo.

Not to mention, that's an expression on Diavolo's face I haven't seen before. It's new.

I want to see more of his different expressions.

MC: Keep up the good work.

Belphegor: ...

Belphegor: What do you MEAN, keep up the good work?

Belphegor: I'm telling you I've been found out! This task is impossible now!

MC: It's still possible, you just need to start making some real effort.

MC: Don't just film him, do something to put a smile on Diavolo's face.

Belphegor: So much work. So **tiring**.

MC: Stop procrastinating and get on with it. I know you can do it.

MC: And don't forget your homework either. Did you ask Barbatos for textbooks yet?

Belphegor: Gah, why are you so harsh with me?

Belphegor: How can you bear to work such a cute demon as me so hard?

_ding._

Belphegor has sent me a picture of himself.

I click on it. It's a picture of Belphie's sleeping face.

Amazing. He's even managed to take a selfie of himself while he's sleeping. Well, I'm sure he's had the assistance of his spying ghost.

Belphegor: See? Don't I look cute?

MC: Yeah, you're very cute while you're asleep.

MC: Not so much while you're awake, though.

Belphegor: GAH!

Belphegor: Then I will sleep **all the time** , and you'll never be able to assign another task to me!

MC: Then we'll never be able to talk again.

MC: Is that what you want?

Belphegor: ...Of course not.

MC: I can't talk to someone who's asleep. That'd be a one-sided conversation.

MC: Additionally, I don't think **any** interactions would be possible. I have no interest in someone **unresponsive**.

Belphegor: I don't mind being the sleeping beauty if you **wake me up with a kiss**.

Wasn't the sleeping beauty in a state of deep, enchanted slumber, for a hundred years or so? I don't think I can afford to wait around that long. I have things to do, promises to keep.

Not to mention, wasn't she sleeping in a coffin?

MC: I'd rather not kiss someone who looks like he might be dead.

Belphegor: Urk!

MC: I could arrange a cute glass **coffin** for you, though? To match the cuteness of your sleeping face.

Belphegor: This is NOT the response I was hoping to achieve with my picture. This conversation is dashing my expectations.

MC: Maybe I could ask Asmo to decorate your coffin with flowers or gemstones. I'm sure he'd do a good job of it. You don't have to worry.

Belphegor: I am not worried about that —!

MC: Which flowers are your favorite?

Belphegor: Never mind the flowers, I don't want a glass coffin!

Belphegor: Could you bear to let me sleep forever, without waking me up?

MC: Not to worry, you won't have to sleep forever. I'm sure Asmo would be willing to give you a kiss.

MC: He wouldn't mind even if you look a little dead. It's all the same to him.

MC: He could double as a decorator and the prince charming. This role is the perfect fit for him, don't you agree?

Belphegor: Even if I agree, why are you trying to delegate all the work to Asmo —!

MC: I'm the pact master, and I have many tasks to do, most of which are related to your family. It's only natural that I delegate as much work as possible to my demons.

MC: The others never refuse to help me out.

MC: And you, Belphie, have to pull your weight too.

Belphegor: I'm not refusing to, but it's tiring. I don't have any energy, and I'm not **motivated** at all. I need some **incentive** to keep me motivated...

I ignore Belphie's obvious hint.

MC: Committing the **crime of treason** is also tiring, but you've managed to muster the energy to do it.

Belphegor: Yes, but that took **all of my energy** , and this is why I'm tired right now —!

MC: The problem with you, Belphie, is that you keep getting tired at the wrong moment.

MC: Either be too lazy to commit wrongdoings, or be full of energy when it's time to make amends.

MC: Now, I think you've procrastinated long enough.

MC: The tasks I gave you are all a part of your rehabilitation. You're going to be a reformed demon after I am done with you.

Belphegor: I am NOT looking forward to that.

MC: All right, you can go back to work now.

Belphegor: I want to talk more. I haven't voiced all of my complaints.

MC: I want to get out of the bath. The water's gone cold.

Belphegor: ...You've been taking a bath all this time?

Belphegor: I wondered why the mirror misted over from the heat. So it's because of that.

Belphegor: I had good timing with my call.

Belphegor: This makes me gain a little bit of **energy**. Although I still need more.

MC: I hope you can channel all of that **extra energy** into your tasks.

MC: I'll talk to you tomorrow.

MC: And next time, I expect to hear a better report.

Belphegor: Ugh!

I swipe my hand across the mirror, wiping Belphie's reflection away.


	123. The Dream

I get out of the bath and immediately slip into my bed. Solomon is sitting on a chair next to the bed, flipping through a book pensively.

MC: So what's the plan, Master?

Solomon: I was thinking of reading you a book until you fall asleep.

I don't think that would work. Previously, I have tried all methods to combat insomnia, before finally resorting to magical assistance.

However, I'm not about to say that out loud. I am planning to profit from this exceptionally rare situation.

MC: What are you going to read?

Solomon: How about a picture book?

MC: Then, Master, please read me "Chimeras, Illustrated".

Solomon: ...I've told you before, it's too early for you to read something like that.

Solomon: You're not still thinking of that grimoire?

MC: Of — of course not. I've already forgotten all about it!

MC: Then, could you read me "The Treatise on Poisons"? It has pictures, too.

Solomon: I don't know...

Solomon: I am worried that it's going to excite you, instead of putting you to sleep.

MC: It doesn't matter.

MC: I don't think I'll be able to fall asleep, anyway.

Solomon: What are you worried about?

MC: ...

Solomon: I am here. I won't let anything happen to you. I won't let anything interrupt your rest.

Solomon: Your pet demon is here too, hiding under your bed.

Nine is here?

I can sense a shadow of movement under the bed.

MC: That's not my bed. It's yours, Master. I am only borrowing it.

MC: (yawn)

Solomon: I have assigned this room to you. No one else will be using it.

Solomon: And when I move out of this house, I will demolish the whole building.

MC: You could sell it instead, and use those funds to buy a house in a new location.

Solomon: There's no need for me to bother with that.

Solomon: I could always have a new house built wherever I need it, whenever I need it.

That... is true...

Vaguely, I realize that I have started to become very drowsy.

The exhaustion of the day must have caught up with me.

There is a rustle of paper as Solomon flips through his book.

Solomon: I might as well read this one.

Solomon: "Midway in the journey of our life, I found myself in the dark wood, for the straight path has been lost..."

Master, what kind of a choice is that...?

You really think... it'd help me... sleep?

MC: Zzz

I fall asleep, and I see a dream.

Under the blood moon, I see two silhouettes.

It's Belphegor and Beelzebub.

Belphegor is kneeling down, facing away from Beelzebub, and his claws are moving quickly, slashing at something lying on the ground. Beelzebub stands motionless, looking down at him.

Oh. It's one of **those** dreams.

I glance down, and sure enough, my feet are ankle-deep in red sludge.

Just a few steps away from me, I notice a severed hand.

What a mess. Belphie always leaves body parts strewn about.

Beelzebub: Belphie, we need to talk.

Belphegor: Not now, Beel. I'm busy. Can't this wait for half an hour?

Beelzebub: This is important.

With a sigh, Belphegor stands up. His arms are hanging loosely by his sides, and blood is dripping off his fingers.

Belphegor: What is it now?

Beelzebub: I've been thinking, and what you're doing is wrong.

Beelzebub: You should stop, Belphie.

Beelzebub: Don't kill any more humans.

Belphegor shakes his head, with a sigh of disappointment.

Belphegor: What's gotten into you, all of a sudden?

Belphegor: Oh, I know. Are you hungry?

Beelzebub: No. I don't have any appetite.

Belphegor tilts his head to the side, clearly puzzled. He is staring at Beelzebub, as though trying to read his mind. The silence stretches on.

Belphegor: Wait. I know.

Belphegor: You want a hug. Is that it?

Belphegor: Come here. I'll give you a hug. It'll make everything better.

Belphegor reaches out his blooded hands. Involuntary, Beelzebub takes a step back.

They both freeze in the middle of the motion. For what feels like forever, both of them are silent.

Belphegor: Beel, you...

Belphegor: You're not thinking of **abandoning** me, are you?

Beelzebub: ...

Belphegor: Because if so, I don't think I could forgive you.

Belphegor: Everyone else abandoned me. Everyone turned their back on me.

Belphegor: But that's okay. Because I still have you, Beel. And you're everything I need.

Belphegor: You never stopped having faith in me. Even after everything I've done, you still forgave me. And you broke me out of Diavolo's prison. **I am a free demon now, thanks to you**.

Belphegor is smiling. The red moonlight colors his face and his eyes in the same shade of blood, making him look blind.

Belphegor: You are my last ray of hope in this bleak, bleak world.

There is no response from Beelzebub.

But there is a response from the sky.

A single ray of golden light pierces the darkness, descending from above. Both demons turn to face it.

Belphegor frowns.

Belphegor: We've got an intruder.

Belphegor: Let's return to our discussion later, okay? For now, you need to go and deal with that threat.

Belphegor: Just like you've dealt with **all the previous threats**.

Beelzebub is silent.

Belphegor: That's an angel, Beel, and he's coming here. He's after my life, I am sure. If you don't do anything to stop him, I am going to **die**.

Belphegor: You wouldn't let your cute little brother die, would you? We're twins, after all.

Beelzebub: ...

Belphegor: We can continue our discussion later. I don't really have to kill **all** humans. We can negotiate the exact numbers after the immediate threat is gone.

I can see the exact moment when Beel makes up his mind. His shoulders sag.

Belphie can see it too, and he smiles.

Belphegor: That's right, Beel. I knew you would **always** choose my side.

Belphegor: You are the only one who can understand me.

Beelzebub unsheathes his sword and takes a step towards the golden light.

Great, now I will have to witness Beel being slaughtered by Michael. Or maybe I would be annihilated in the area strike before I can see anything.

Well, at least it's not Lucifer this time. Michael is doing all of us a huge favor.

I think I started to first like Michael after seeing all those dreams of the future. He almost always shows up first to dispose of the twins. They never make a lot of progress before he makes his move. He's quick and efficient with the execution.

I am not sure, but I think the number of human victims need to exceed a certain amount before Michael can get directly involved.

MC: !

Wait. What's that?

An almost invisible movement, like spiderwebs, like shadow threads. I am only able to notice it because I've seen it before.

Silky threads are wrapping around Beelzebub, sinking into his eyes and mouth, into his arms and legs.

Beelzebub stops. Then he turns around, towards Belphegor.

His movements are stiff and jerky, like he's a puppet on strings.

Belphegor: What's wrong, Beel?

Without letting go of his sword, Beelzebub opens his arms for a hug.

Belphegor: Beel, so you wanted a hug all along? You should've just said so!

Grinning, Belphegor steps forward and wraps his arms around Beelzebub.

Belphegor: I had trouble seeing what's on your mind, and it made me really nervous.

Belphegor: I wasn't sure I could convey my feelings to you. But you can feel it now, can't you?

Belphegor: With this hug, you know how I feel. Our hearts are beating as one.

Belphegor: We'll take revenge on the human realm, and on all three realms, **together**.

Finally, I can't remain silent anymore.

MC: You idiot, you're both already dead. **My Master is here**.

Belphegor: ?!

Belphegor: Who's there?

Belphegor turns his head towards me, and he lets go of Beelzebub.

But he doesn't have the time to break away from the hug.

Beelzebub drives his sword clean through Belphegor's back, impaling them both.

Belphegor: H-huh?

The sword keeps moving through Beelzebub's chest, and emerges at his back.

Belphegor: B-Beel...? You... Wha...

From the shadows, a figure materializes, bathed in a silvery light.

It's Solomon, and he looks exactly how he did when I fell asleep minutes ago.

Solomon: Did you have to announce my presence?

MC: Master!

I bound towards him.

MC: Master, what are you doing here?

Solomon: I told you I'd be here, didn't I?

Solomon: I won't let anything happen to you. I won't let anything interrupt your rest.

MC: I can't believe you actually interfered with the dream! Master, you're so awesome!

Solomon: Yes, yes.

Belphegor: Urgghk...

The golden light is getting closer. Solomon glances at it warily.

Solomon: Let's get out of here. I don't want to explain this to Michael.

MC: Right.

I take Solomon's hand.

Belphegor: W-wait —!

I glance back over my shoulder at him.

Belphegor: Why — ugrrkh — Beel —

MC: You want to know why Beel killed you?

Belphegor: ...gahrk!

MC: I guess he just felt like stabbing you all of a sudden. Demons have those moods, you see.

MC: You thought he wanted to hug you, but he actually wanted to kill you. It's your own fault for foolishly trusting him. Tough luck.

I can hear Solomon's quiet chuckle.

Solomon: You're as bad as I am.

Solomon tugs at my hand, and the dream fades away.


	124. The Ripples Spread

MC: You really saved me, Master. That was such a relief. I didn't want to watch Beel being killed by Michael. Not to mention, it's too unpleasant when Michael uses those area strikes. The Celestial fire just keeps burning on, and even though it's supposed to be just a dream, I swear I can feel the heat all the while, and there's just no escape. I prefer it when he uses that localized sweep with his flaming sword, but maybe he wanted to dispose of the targets and immolate all human remains in one go.

Solomon: Mm.

MC: Oh, but I kinda wanted to see Michael. I never really saw him in his angel form. Normally I stay far away, because even just looking at him directly is painful, but I think I could manage one quick look — ow, OW! Master, why'd you have to squeeze my hand **so hard**?

Solomon: You were going to turn in **the wrong direction**.

MC: I didn't even notice.

Solomon: Pay close attention to my movements. It's easy to get separated and get lost in this fog in a moment of distraction.

MC: I'll do my best to focus. I was shaken up by the dream.

Solomon: (You are impressed by Michael a bit too much.)

MC: Did you say something, Master?

Solomon: Nothing...

MC: Where are we going?

Solomon: My safe house.

MC: Master, answer me honestly. Are you a demon?

Solomon: ...What's that all of a sudden?

MC: We're in the Infernal area of the Dreamscape. I always get pulled in here when I sleep in the Devildom general area. This area is the product of the collective unconsciousness of demons. How could a human have a safe house here?

Solomon: Once your mentality is close enough to that of a demon, or your understanding of demons is advanced enough, it's possible. As you are right now, you could even try creating a safe house here of your own.

MC: Really? I had no idea that it was even possible. I want to try!

MC: I **really** don't want to get pulled into Belphie's nightmares anymore. His pull on me in the Dreamscape is too strong. And he never dreams of anything good.

Solomon: You can look around my safe house and try to imitate how it works. It's rather simple.

We emerge out of the fog into a small area. It's dark, and there seems to be a pond nearby.

I can hear singing frogs.

I pick up a pebble and throw it into the pond, watching the ripples spread in the darkness.

The frogs stop singing for a moment, then resume again. The sound is really soothing...

Solomon: This way.

I turn, and immediately encounter a large heap of hay.

MC: Oh...

Solomon: You can use it to rest.

This large heap of hay looks very inviting. I quickly make a nest there.

MC: I'll just rest my eyes for a moment.

I can feel, rather than see, Solomon's smile in the darkness.

Solomon: Of course.

I close my eyes, and plunge deep into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the Demon Lord's Castle...

Barbatos: There's a message for you, Young Master.

Diavolo: ?

Diavolo unfolds the note Barbatos gave him, and reads it. Then he lets out a sigh, and smiles.

Diavolo: I've been found out.

There is open disbelief in his voice.

Barbatos: Is that a thank-you note from Satan, about the Banesroot he received from you?

Diavolo: Yes, although he doesn't know who he's sending this note to.

Barbatos: How very thoughtful of him.

Barbatos: Or perhaps I should say it's **the human** who's the thoughtful one?

Diavolo: ...

Barbatos: It's rather **novel** for someone to see through your true intentions.

Barbatos waits for a moment, but Diavolo does not comment.

Barbatos: By the way, Young Master, the Guardian in the treasury needs to be reset. After interacting directly with the intruder, it seems to have become a little...unsettled.

Diavolo: (muttering) It can hardly be blamed for that.

Barbatos: Have you watched the record of what happened in the treasury, Young Master?

Diavolo gives him a sideways glance, but doesn't reply.

Barbatos: If you don't have the time for that, would you like me to watch it for you and delete it afterwards?

Diavolo: ...Do as you like.

Barbatos: As you wish, Young Master.

Barbatos: Then I will make extra copies of that record, and store them in different locations, so that the archive of that significant event doesn't get lost.

Diavolo: ... **Significant event**?

Barbatos: But of course. Someone managed to break into the royal treasury, and escape. This is quite significant.

Barbatos: It's too bad that the intruder broke the seal and fled.

Barbatos: Wouldn't it have been wonderful to keep the intruder sealed within your treasury **forever**?

Diavolo: Barbatos.

Barbatos: Yes, Young Master?

Diavolo: Stop talking.

Barbatos: Yes, Young Master.

Barbatos: (cough)

Diavolo: If you're going to laugh, do it where I can't hear you.

Barbaros: (cough) My apologies. (cough, cough) I'm going to get some cough drops right away.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the Demon Lord's Castle's dungeon...

Lucifer: How have you been, Belphie?

Belphegor: ...

Lucifer: Last time, I was too distracted to pay full attention to our conversation. There was a lot on my mind, and I admit I wasn't truly listening.

Lucifer: This time, I will hear you out properly.

Lucifer: What did you want to say to me?

Belphegor: ...

Lucifer: (stares) Why are you silent? Are you trying to give me a silent treatment?

After a moment of hesitation, Belphegor nods.

Lucifer: If that's what you're **really** trying to do, then why did you nod just now...?

Belphegor: (teeth gnashing)

Lucifer: **Something isn't right.**

Lucifer raises his hand, and it lights up with a dark flame, which shoots through the cell bars and engulfs Belphegor.

Belphegor: !

Lucifer: **Speak, Belphegor**.

Belphegor: Mmph!

Belphegor: (I KNEW this was going to happen! He's forcing me to speak!)

Belphegor: (Now I HAVE to choose one of those **atrocious lines**.)

Belphegor: (Which one? They're all bad.)

Belphegor: (Oh, whatever!)

Belphegor: "Lucifer, you look tired. Are you overworking yourself? Is there anything I can do to help you out?"

Lucifer: ...

Belphegor: ...

Lucifer: ...

Belphegor: ...

Lucifer: **...What?**


	125. The Turning Point

It only takes Lucifer a few moments to completely regain his composure.

Lucifer: Wait a minute.

Lucifer leaves the dungeon at a fast pace, and returns quickly, carrying along a HUGE stack of papers.

Belphegor regards the HUGE stack of papers in Lucifer's arms with an expression of dark resignation.

Belphegor: (I KNEW this was going to happen!)

Lucifer: Thank you for your kind offer, Belphie.

Lucifer: You can help me with these papers.

Lucifer pushes the HUGE stack of papers through the cell bars, portion by portion.

Although he REALLY doesn't want to, Belphie accepts them all.

Lucifer gives Belphegor a stapler.

Lucifer: You see, Mephistopheles was supposed to staple these papers, and although he did so perfectly, in the correct order and with edges aligned, he has inserted many pictures and resumes of himself in between those papers.

Lucifer: I don't want to see those pictures and resumes of Mephistopheles each time I check the papers. They hurt my eyes. I had already been forced to look at them all, several times.

Lucifer: So, remove **all the useless papers**. And restaple the whole stack again.

Lucifer: You have an hour.

Lucifer turns, and he's gone.

Belphegor: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!

An hour later...

With bloodshot eyes, Belphegor returns the papers to Lucifer, restapled. Separately, he hands Lucifer a stack of Mephistopheles' pictures and resumes, followed by the staple itself.

Lucifer flips through the papers, and nods in satisfaction.

Lucifer: Acceptable.

Next, Lucifer takes his time to slowly roast the stack of Mephistopheles' pictures and resumes on a low fire, with visible pleasure, until not even ashes remain.

Lucifer: Now that we're done with that, Belphie...

Lucifer: Again.

Lucifer hits Belphegor with his Curse.

Belphegor tries to dodge, in vain.

Lucifer: **Speak to me, Belphegor**.

Belphegor: (He's still not satisfied! I KNEW this was going to happen!)

Belphegor: (Once he has discovered my weakness, he will exploit it to the fullest.)

Belphegor: (What should I do? I don't want to do another tiring work. My eyes hurt from having to look at Mephisto's pictures, I am afraid I won't be able to do the work to the very best of my ability, as commanded.)

Belphegor: (There's no other choice...)

Belphegor: "Lucifer, you look troubled. If there's something on your mind, I'm willing to lend a listening ear."

Lucifer: ...

This time, Lucifer takes Belphegor's line in stride.

Lucifer conjures a chair for himself, and sits down.

Belphegor: (No, no, NOOO!)

Lucifer: Thank you very much for this, Belphie. You cannot begin to imagine how much I appreciate your offer right now. There is so much on my mind.

Lucifer: I have many, MANY **complaints about Mammon**.

Lucifer: And I need you to listen to them all.

Lucifer: First, let me tell you about that one occasion when **Mammon tried to seduce Barbatos**.

Lucifer: The unspeakable shame of that event, which Diavolo still mentions every time he meets me, is something I will never be able to live down.

Lucifer: I first heard about it not from my brother, but from the students' idle gossip, which makes it even more humiliating. Yes, the rumors have already spread. **Everyone** is talking about it.

Lucifer: It wouldn't have been so bad if Mammon was at least successful. But he was not.

Lucifer: If you're going to go as far as seduce someone, at least do it right.

Lucifer: His attempt was so low-effort, one would think he was trying to **fail on purpose**.

Lucifer: Mammon has made many mistakes, and Asmo has already given him an earful, but I also have many comments. To begin with, about Mammon's atrocious lack of planning...

Three hours later...

Belphegor: (My ears are bleeding, they're rotting! I don't want to hear another crash course on seduction **ever again**.)

Belphegor: (And I couldn't even find escape in sleep. My master has forbidden me to nap, and I had to listen with full attention. This is pure torture.)

Belphegor: (On the bright side, it looks like Lucifer has finally run out of steam.)

Belphegor: (Maybe he'll give me a break now...)

Lucifer: Again.

Belphegor: (Dammit!)

Lucifer hits Belphegor again with his Curse.

Lucifer: **Speak to me, Belphegor**.

Belphegor: (Nothing else for it. I'll have to say the first line again.)

Lucifer: And this time, **say something I haven't heard from you today**.

Belphegor: ?!

Belphegor: (Why'd he phrase it like this? How could he know what I was going to do?)

Belphegor: (teeth gnashing)

Belphegor: (No choice but to say the last line. I'll just say it very quickly. Pretend it's a line in a play.)

Belphegor: (in a monotone) "Lucifer, I'm sorry I've caused you this much trouble. Thank you so much for saving my life. I'll dedicate the rest of my days to making sure you don't regret it."

Lucifer: ...

Belphegor: ...

Lucifer: **Music to my ears**.

Lucifer: **Say this same line again.**

Belphegor: (Why do I have to suffer like this?)

Belphegor: (This counts as torturing a prisoner, right? It's unethical!)

Half an hour later...

Lucifer: I've listened to it to my satisfaction, for now.

Belphegor: (Now is my chance!)

Belphegor closes his eyes and slumps against the wall, apparently asleep.

Belphegor: Zzz

Lucifer: ...That was fast.

Lucifer stands in front of the cell, studying Belphegor thoughtfully.

Lucifer: What an unusual experience.

Lucifer: I think I know who I have to thank for that.

Belphegor, only pretending to be asleep: (When are you going to leave?)

But Lucifer makes no motion of moving. He seems deep in thought. The same distracted expression appears on his face. Belphegor, who is peeking at him from under his lashes, notices it.

Belphegor: (I should have known. He's thinking about that same thing again.)

Belphegor: (He's had many complaints about Mammon, but he didn't tell me a single thing of what's **really** on his mind.)

Belphegor: (And I know what he **really** must be working on right now, but he hasn't shared a word of that with me. He just gave me paperwork.)

Belphegor: (Even as a prisoner, I can still gather information. And I can even do **more than that**.)

Belphegor: (But...I suppose **he doesn't trust me**. That is only to be expected.)

Belphegor: (I KNEW this was going to happen. I knew, but I still can't help but feel disappointed.)

Belphegor: (...)

Belphegor: (If only we could **cooperate** , we could've made much faster progress...)

Belphegor: (...)

Belphegor: (Should I try to...acknowledge his authority?)

Belphegor: (Just like before...)

Belphegor: (He might be more willing to cooperate with me then.)

After standing for a while, lost in thought, Lucifer finally turns and walks towards the exit.

Belphegor: ...

Belphegor: Lucifer...

Lucifer's footsteps come to halt.

Belphegor: I'm sorry.

Lucifer: ...

Belphegor: I've caused you this much trouble.

Lucifer: (He must have repeated that line so often that he's even dreaming of it.)

Belphegor: (I've said these words so many times today. Somehow...this makes it easier to say them.)

Belphegor: Thank you so much for saving my life.

Belphegor: I'll dedicate the rest of my days to making sure you don't regret it.

Lucifer listens to Belphegor's words without turning around. He's heard those words before, but this time, they sound different. For once, they're lacking in monotone.

These words sound almost sincere.

Lucifer turns around and looks at Belphegor.

Belphegor: Lucifer, thank you for taking such good care of me. 

Belphegor: You are, and will always be...

Belphegor gulps and speaks with a visible effort.

Belphegor: ...my awesome big brother.

Lucifer: !

That line is new. Belphegor must have concealed it until the end.

Belphegor opens his eyes.

Lucifer: ...Were you talking in your sleep?

Belphegor takes a deep breath and meets Lucifer's gaze.

Belphegor: No.

Belphegor: I wasn't sleeping just now.

Belphegor: **I meant everything I've said.**

Behind the barred windows, dawn breaks. Beyond this reality, the gears of fate are shifting and turning. The maze of countless rooms is twisting and reforming, wiping out the existing probabilities and creating new ones. A change sweeps across realities — a tidal cascade effect.

The future is thrown into uncertainty once more.

And everyone, including the prisoner in the castle, and his oldest brother facing him, and the human still sleeping in the unspecified house, and the sorcerer watching over the human, and the human's pet hiding under their bed, and everyone connected to the human by the bonds of fate, are being pulled forward into that future.


	126. The Reunion

The next day...

At midday, I meet Diavolo at the gates to Aspire.

Diavolo comes out of the carriage.

He is wearing the new outfit, and it looks amazing on him. Both Magister Kerish and Mephistopheles have done a very good job. Even the symbols have been embroidered as agreed.

MC: The flower?

Diavolo: Of course.

Diavolo summons the elusive mirage flower and hands it over to me.

The mirage flower changes hands.

MC: Nine!

Nine: Oou.

Nine materializes out of thin air next to me. I give him a look of satisfaction. After Solomon has given Nine many delicious bones to gnaw upon, Nine's fur has become very glossy, and his coat has acquired a mysterious shine, which is faintly visible during the dark moon. It doesn't seem to affect his ability to hide, but now he's like a polished precious gemstone.

MC: Take it.

Nine lowers his head, and I place the potted flower on top of his head. He disappears.

I turn to face Diavolo, who's waiting patiently for me to finish.

Diavolo: Mephistopheles worked through the night to prepare this outfit in time.

Diavolo: How do I look?

MC: You're even more stunning than usual.

MC: Hold out your hands.

Diavolo: ?

After a pause, Diavolo holds out his hands, and I handcuff his wrists together.

Diavolo: !

MC: Sorry about that. This is Decimus' condition. Unless your hands are handcuffed, you cannot enter the Aspire domain.

MC: In fact, you won't be able to pass through the gates unless you're handcuffed. There's a spell on the gates to make sure of that.

Diavolo: ...

Diavolo looks rather discouraged by this development. Clearly, this doesn't make him feel very welcome.

MC: It's not a bad thing. It means he acknowledges your strength.

MC: At first, Decimus even wanted to tie you up completely and use a gag, too. You won't believe how hard it was to negotiate him down to handcuffs only, not to mention handcuffs that don't have a Curse or any other spell on them.

I think Decimus was inspired by how the King brought Diavolo in during the trial.

MC: This is the most I could do for you. From now on, you're on your own.

MC: The guards will show you in. Try not to demolish the entire place. Remember two thirds of the future city of Aspire belong to Mammon and me.

I nod at the second carriage parked at the gates, and the hooded demon jumps down to open the carriage door for me.

MC: Then, I'll leave you both to it.

Diavolo: Wait.

I pause, my eyes narrowed. As expected, he has something **else** in mind.

But, it's strange. He's finally getting his long-awaited meeting. Shouldn't he hurry up and come in? I thought he'd be more impatient.

Diavolo: I have a letter for you.

MC: ?

Moving his handcuffed hands awkwardly, Diavolo takes out a letter and hands it over to me.

I open it and read it.

It's a letter from Lucifer.

MC: !

In his letter, Lucifer describes in vivid, graphic detail everything he's going to do to me if Decimus so much as harms a hair on Diavolo's head.

Lucifer goes on further to declare me solely responsible for the outcome of the meeting, for all the political and metaphysical consequences, and even for Diavolo's mood throughout and directly afterwards.

At the very end, he saves the best of his threats for the worst-case scenario, which is the case where Diavolo does not end up having fun during the meeting.

Could it be...?

Yes, definitely.

This must be the letter Lucifer has been trying so hard to compose all through the previous night, the one that gave him so much difficulty that he had many discarded drafts.

He's been writing a letter **to me**?

My mood lifts instantly.

MC: Hehe.

I pocket the letter. This is the first letter from Lucifer I've ever received, and it even contains all the proper death threats. It would be ideal if it was Cursed as well, but maybe he was worried I wouldn't be able to dispel his Curse and it would jeopardize Diavolo's meeting.

But the best part is, Lucifer has finally given me a challenging task, the important task that only I can do. He's relying on me.

He's handed me a lot of responsibility with that.

Diavolo is watching me.

Diavolo: ...What does the letter say?

He doesn't know?

MC: Orders from Lucifer. He's imploring me to accompany you during your meeting with Decimus.

MC: What do you think about that? Do you want me to come with you?

Does Diavolo want me to stick around and be the third wheel? I highly doubt it, since Lucifer does not even appear to have consulted him on this matter. I bet you anything Diavolo wants to be left alone with Decimus.

If Diavolo refuses, I can leave with my conscience completely clear.

Diavolo lets out an awkward laugh.

Diavolo: That... would be nice.

...Really?

I watch Diavolo, frowning. Upon closer inspection, he looks pretty tense.

Maybe he's not as confident about this meeting as I thought.

Or maybe those handcuffs are sapping his confidence. It is likely he's never been treated as a prisoner before.

MC: In that case, I will accompany you, and I will lend you my support during this meeting.

MC: Let's go in.

I lead Diavolo through the gates, and seal the gates behind us.

Right after passing through the gates, I stop, and turn to Diavolo.

MC: Hold out your hands.

Diavolo looks puzzled, but he holds out his handcuffed hands again.

MC: Nine!

Nine: Oou.

Nine appears next to me, and I gesture at the handcuffs.

MC: See this chain in the middle? Break it.

Diavolo: Is this really okay?

MC: Sure, why not? I only promised Decimus I would put the handcuffs on you. I never said anything about not taking them off.

MC: And now that you're inside, the gates won't stop you anymore. There's no reason to keep wearing them.

Nine moves closer, and looks up at Diavolo, who holds out his hands for him.

Nine opens his mouth.

MC: Careful. Careful. Don't you dare leave your fur on the embroidery, and don't drool on Diavolo's sleeves. If you make a mistake here, I'll feed you to the perimeter guard.

Nine has an aggrieved expression in his eyes, but he takes a hold of the chain between his teeth carefully.

Diavolo: I thought these handcuffs were not a bad thing?

MC: Whether bad or good, of course you can't wear them. You're a guest, not a prisoner. That's a completely different status, and Decimus is very sensitive to things like that.

Diavolo does not comment on me contradicting my own previous words.

MC: OK, this looks good. Go for it, Nine.

SNAP.

Nine bites clean through the chain, breaking it in half.

With visible relief, Diavolo dispels the remains of the handcuffs, and rubs his wrists.

As expected, as soon as the constructed item's integrity is broken, the entire construct is easy to dispose of.

Diavolo: He has sharp teeth.

I wave Nine off, and he melts back into the shadows.

MC: Actually, Decimus has enhanced his teeth.

MC: Giving lower demons Prime enhancements is Decimus' favorite thing to do. He often enhances the border patrol demons, too.

MC: This way.

We pass through the open field, where the golden spikes are glittering.

MC: This is the field where the reincarnation project started. All the cores have now been extracted, and they're in the Pool of Fortune right now.

MC: Mammon is completely exhausted, and he's asleep right now. He probably won't wake up until evening.

MC: Decimus expects the first reincarnation soon.

Diavolo: Right...

MC: ?

It's unusual for him to be so quiet.

I glance over at Diavolo. He looks tense and stiff, and he's getting more tense with every step we're taking.

I guess it's only natural that he's nervous about the upcoming meeting. But seeing him like this is really unusual. I thought Diavolo had no problem talking with anyone.

If he goes in like this, the meeting would be a disaster. Decimus has absolutely no plans on doing the talking. And if Diavolo doesn't talk either, it'd be total silence. The meeting would pass just like that. Forget having fun, there'd be no change.

I give a sharp whistle.

In response to my signal, a shadow approaches us at immense speed. In a blink, the rabbit construct is before us, and it looks up cutely at me with its sinister red eyes.

I reach out my hand, and the rabbit jumps into my arms. I hand it over to Diavolo.

MC: Its name is Demo. Hold it.

Automatically, Diavolo grasps the Infernal rabbit in his arms.

Diavolo: Oh...it's fluffy.

His expression relaxes visibly.

MC: Decimus made it.

MC: Demo, act cute for Diavolo.

Demo nudges Diavolo's hand with its nose, and he lets out a surprised laugh.

MC: You can pet it if you want.

Diavolo pets the Infernal rabbit carefully, and Demo narrows its eyes into slits in satisfaction.

MC: It likes you. Maybe it thinks that you and Decimus smell alike?

Diavolo: It's possible. We share a similar pattern of Prime.

Diavolo pets Demo again, who nestles closer to him. I can see the tension drain out of Diavolo.

Just as I thought. Diavolo likes cute things.

MC: Demo was a tabby cat originally, and it caused quite a stir among the lower demons with its debut at the Dismal Plateau. It's entertaining the perimeter guard as a rabbit now. Decimus still hasn't decided whether to settle on this rabbit form or not.

I hope that Diavolo can use this rabbit construct as a conversation starter. Perhaps he's worried because he doesn't know what to talk about with Decimus. I've tried to give him a number of relatively safe topics to choose from, although I'm sure Diavolo has already done his research.

MC: Teleport is ahead.

We step upon a circle concealed by the grass, and it teleports us inside the house, right in front of a large door.

I turn to look at Diavolo, who meets my gaze. He looks much calmer now.

MC: This is his studio. He should be inside right now.

MC: Ready to come in?

Diavolo: Yes. If you're with me, I have nothing to worry about.

MC: Leave it to me! Since Lucifer himself went through the trouble of requesting my assistance, I will personally make sure your meeting is a great success.

I give Diavolo an encouraging smile.

MC: And Decimus has also been eager to meet you.

I turn and push the door open.

And I face dozens of sharp spears pointing at me.

MC: ... **Decimus**!

Decimus' voice comes from within the chamber.

Decimus: Oh...you're here too?

Irritated, I move towards the spears, which disappear before they can come into contact with my body.

MC: What are you doing? Is this how you **greet a guest**?

Decimus: He's not a —

Diavolo steps out from behind me, and Decimus falls silent. His eyes widen.

Decimus' gaze moves over Diavolo's form and lingers on Diavolo's unhandcuffed hands, wrapped around the Infernal rabbit. For a long moment, he stares at the symbol displayed on Diavolo's sleeve — the wavy line, thrice bent.

_That's the symbol of our galaxy. It means, "advancing despite the Chaos"._

I can see Decimus' pupils constrict in shock.

Decimus' gaze flickers over to me, then back to Diavolo again.

For a few heartbeats, the two of them regard each other in silence.

Decimus: ...Very well.

Decimus: Since you've traveled such a long way, it would be very rude of me to turn you away from my door now.

Decimus: Both of you, come in.

Diavolo steps into the room, and I follow him.

The door closes behind us.

Decimus faces Diavolo, and his lips curve into a smile.

Decimus: Well, hello there, brother...

Decimus: Finally, we meet face to face.

**The End.**

* * *

Thank you for reading, everyone!

fanart (received on January 27, 2021): <http://aminoapps.com/p/r3qdek>


End file.
